


Baker Street, You May Take the Field In Competition!

by Mrs_SimonTam_PHD



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU Fic, Angst, Don't Judge the band nerd, Drum Corps, Fluff, Humor, I'll update tags as I continue writing, John's bisexual, Moriarty's so gay, Multi, Sherlock does color guard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-11 00:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 25,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3309284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD/pseuds/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson decides to march drum corps with the fantastic Baker Street Drum and Bugle Corps. Here, he meets Sherlock Holmes, a veteran with exceedingly good cheekbones and a keen eye for observation; Xanna Davidson, a veteran who is able to keep Sherlock under wraps and his current flatmate; and Jim Moriarty, a veteran who is highly competitive against the two and who seems to want to corrupt John. </p><p>Will John be able to make it through his first summer tour without being manipulated by Moriarty? Or will Xanna and Sherlock be able to save him? </p><p>Drum Corps AU fic with Guard!Sherlock and Guard!John. Eventual Johnlock, prior Sheriarty. There's also Johniarty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Friday Night Auditions

John Watson wondered, for the billionth time, what the fuck he was doing here.  
“Here” was at the Baker Street Drum and Bugle Corps auditions, in the color guard section. He figured that as a guy, he would be more beneficial there- more ladies there.   
Now, he was wondering if he should’ve stayed on trumpet.   
The girls- and guys- spoke another language. There were ballet terms, and flag terms, and rifle terms, sabre terms- which looked very bloody scary. He kept looking everywhere, not knowing where to keep his eyes as more experienced members showed off their skills.   
Soon, a friendly man with silver hair came over. “Ah, you must be John Watson. I’m Greg, the guard caption head here. I take it you’ve never done guard before?”  
John nodded, licking his lower lip.   
“Well, don’t worry, we’ll get you up to speed. I’ll assign you someone to teach you everything, one of the vets,” he said warmly, his eyes now scanning the room. He finally called out a couple of names.   
“Sherlock! Xanna!”   
A really thin boy with glorious cheekbones- Christ, John had never seen cheekbones like those- and unruly, curl raven colored hair came over, idly spinning a flag, while a girl- much shorter than the boy, with almost burnt orange hair and a youthful look to her came over, a rifle in her hand.   
“Yeah, Greg?” the girl asked, her voice actually lower pitched than what he expected.   
“This is John Watson, he’s new to the world of color guard. John, that is Sherlock-“ he pointed to the boy, “And that is Xanna. They’re two of our best vets. Xanna’s been here forever, and Sherlock’s been here for a good amount of time as well.”  
“What are you interested in, John? Spinning wise, that is,” Xanna asked.   
Sherlock snorted.   
“It’s an honest question, Sher,” she defended herself. “I know he looks like he’s built for rifle, but remember, Anderson told me I’d never spin rifle.”  
“You just needed a properly weighted gun,” Greg said, shrugging. “Why he gave you El Diablo is beyond me.”  
“’Cause he hates me,” she shrugged as well.   
John gave a weak smile. “I don’t know. . .” he said almost shyly.   
“Well, why don’t you three go into the back corner. Xanna, go grab another flag, rifle, and sabre off the truck.”  
“Sure thing, Greg. What size glove are you, John?” she asked.   
He looked down at his hands.  
“He’s a medium, Xan,” Sherlock said.  
“Thanks, Sher.” The girl took off, while Sherlock lead them to the back corner.   
“Don’t you have shorts?”  
John shook his head. “They’re all in the wash,” he said.   
Sherlock nodded, and they waited for Xanna to return because ‘she’s better at explaining how everything works than I am’. They didn’t have to wait long for her to return with a flag, rifle, sabre, and a couple pairs of gloves.   
“There ya go,” she said. “We’ll wait on equipment, let’s start on dance. Sher, do you think we should start with the plie exercise?”  
Sherlock nodded. “It is the best exercise for beginners.”   
She nodded. “Alright, so quick terminology time. This is first position,” she said, standing in it. “It won’t be a ‘proper’ first, because we are not ballet dancers, but just make sure your toes are pointing on your natural 45,” she said, nudging his foot. “Heels together.”   
The next fifteen minutes was going over the different dance positions they would use in the exercise they were teaching him.   
“Do you want to see the exercise before we teach it?” she asked.  
John nodded. “If you don’t mind,” he said.   
Xanna chuckled and Sherlock got a Bluetooth sound system to start playing “Say Something I’m Givin’ Up On You” from his iPod.   
It was evident that the two were totally different in the way they moved, but they moved as one. Sherlock’s long arms and legs enabled him to slow down, but the way Xanna breathed on each down and up showed her experience. Her movements also tended to be more fluid.   
“With us?” Xanna asked when they were done.   
“I think so,” he said slowly.   
“Don’t worry, it’s easy,” she assured him.   
The next forty minutes were spent teaching him and helping him memorize it.   
“Don’t worry if you can’t get it right now,” Xanna said on the next water break. “We are strong believers of the 24 hour rule here, or as I call it, the ‘sleep on it’ rule.”  
John raised an eyebrow.   
“Basically, once you sleep on it and come back to it, it’ll be easier. You might forget a couple things, but the movements come a lot easier,” she explained.   
“That makes sense,” John said, taking a long draught of water. “What’s next?”  
“Stretching,” Sherlock said. “We usually do more dance than this, in place at least, but we need to stretch.”  
Xanna nodded in agreement.   
The next half hour was spent stretching. John had little flexibility, and once again, he was astounded by the differences between Sherlock and Xanna.   
Sherlock was more flexible in his hips when they stretched their splits, his long legs much wider than a normal man’s should be, while Xanna’s wasn’t. Sherlock could lie himself flat while in second, but Xanna could rest her torso upon her legs when they stretched side to side.   
John felt highly inadequate.   
He couldn’t help but think that Sherlock and Xanna were dating. They worked together like a couple. . .   
“Xanna, Sherlock, why are you away from the rest of the guard?”  
Another man appeared, sneering.   
“Sod off, Anderson,” Sherlock snapped.   
“We are teaching a rookie. Greg gave us permission. Now, please do as Sherlock said, and leave,” Xanna said, her normal soft tone now biting.   
“You’re not going to be on rifle this year, Xanna,” Anderson sneered. “Your sixes are inconsistent.”  
“Just like your sex life?” Xanna asked innocently. “You can barely get a six out indoors. Mine are consistent up until 5 mph winds. Now fuck off.”   
“Is there a problem?” Another man appeared, with ginger hair and an all-knowing expression. Sherlock groaned, and Xanna sighed heavily.   
“No, just the usual, Mycroft,” Xanna said. Anderson huffed and walked away. “I can handle Anderson, Mycroft.”   
“I know you can, Alexandria, but I also don’t want him to ask me if you and Sherlock can be cut this year,” he said. “I have to worry about you two enough.”  
“Piss off, Mycroft,” Sherlock said sourly.   
“Language, Sherlock.”  
“What do you need?”  
“I was checking out the new recruit,” Mycroft said. He held his hand out to the awkward John. “I’m Mycroft. I play a small part on the admin team here.”   
“Pleased to meet you,” John said, and Sherlock gave another snort.  
Mycroft gave a polite smile and left the trio.   
Sherlock began muttering under his breath as he slid into a split.   
“Oh, hush, at least he didn’t embarrass you too much. Besides, now he gets to yell at Anderson,” Xanna soothed. “Mycroft’s Sher’s annoying big brother,” she explained to John. “He was the drum major here my first year here, and he aged out the year before Sherlock joined. That was, what, nine years ago?”   
“Eight. Nine will be in April.”  
“Thanks, Sher,” Xanna said.   
“He used your full name.”  
“He ALWAYS uses my full name. You did too.”   
“Until you hit me over the head with a rifle.”  
“THAT was an accident.”  
John looked at them curiously.   
“We had a rifle exchange four years ago,” she explained. “Sherlock was my partner for the exchange and one day, I was hitting my wall- I’ll explain what that is later- and during that set in rehearsal, I chucked my rifle a little more zealously than I usually do, and caught Sherlock square in the eye and nose.” She looked guiltily at Sherlock. “He started calling me Xan after that.”  
Sherlock nodded in agreement.   
John hummed in semi contentment.   
The rest of the night went by in a whir, and soon, it was time for snack.   
“We’ll stretch before bed,” Xanna said. They had gone over a lot of basics, mainly, especially on flag. Sherlock seemed pleased that he was a quick study, and Xanna delighted in her teaching role.  
“Are you going to be a teacher when you graduate?” John asked as he limped his way to snack. He had dropped a rifle on his foot during an exercise called “Crazy Feet”, and it still smarted.   
“Nope. I’m going to be a shrink, working with trauma vics,” she said, shrugging.   
“That’s fantastic!” John exclaimed.   
“You’re going to be a doctor,” Sherlock said suddenly.   
“How’d you know?” he asked.   
“He deduces things,” Xanna said. “There’s a whole science behind it. He can tell you your life story based on your shoes. I make deductions based on personality and emotions.”  
They arrived at snack, and he met Mrs. Hudson, the grandmotherly figure who took care of Sherlock during a down moment in his life. Snack was a variety of pizza, and Xanna took two slices of mushroom and cheese, John took pepperoni, and Sherlock took none.  
“Sher, eat something, there’s PB&J, and I saw there’s Nutella,” Xanna said.   
“Fine,” Sherlock sighed, getting up and going to fetch his meal.   
“So. . .I don’t mean to pry, but are you and Sherlock a thing?” John asked, digging into his pizza.  
Xanna laughed. “Oh, my Lord, no,” she said. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love Sherlock, but it’s a sibling love. It’s not the romantic love. I’m not sure what his orientation is, although I can make educated guesses, and I’m dating someone else.”  
She brought out her phone and brought up a young man who looked like her, more built like John, carrying a contra. “That’s my boyfriend Wesley,” she explained. “He aged out two years ago. He’s on an Army base right now, which is why I haven’t seen him.”   
“Noble of him,” John said.   
She nodded. “He’s a sweetheart, though,” she said, pocketing her phone. “Most of the time, at least.”   
Sherlock came back with two sandwiches stuffed to the brim with the chocolate hazelnut paste and peanut butter. “What were you two discussing?”  
“Our non existent sex lives,” Xanna said seriously. John blushed.   
Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “You mean your non existent sex life.”  
“Hey, it’s there, it’s on hiatus,” she insisted, laughing. A light blush covered her cheeks.   
Snack over, Sherlock went outside and Xanna looked at his retreating back disapprovingly.   
“He’s going out to smoke. Come on, let’s get your sleep stuff out,” she said, sighing.   
They set his sleeping bag, blanket, and pillow up in a dark corner of the room on the “boys side” of the gym. She pointed out her bed, a double layer air mattress with a built in pillow, covered in a dark blue flannel sheet and sporting a teddy bear, a panda pillow pet, and a giant Garfield blanket. “Back gave out two seasons ago, can’t do the sleeping bag gig anymore,” she confessed. She got out Sherlock’s bed, a camper’s cot, and the two of them stretched, Sherlock joining about half way through smelling of cigarette smoke.   
The stretching before bed was peaceful, with people coming over to say hi to Xanna and Sherlock, hugging Xanna a lot.   
It seemed that people only tolerated Sherlock because of Xanna.   
Soon, it was lights out, and Xanna went over to crawl into her bed, and John Watson fell asleep.


	2. Saturday Auditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John learns more work, and gets to see Xanna and Sherlock spin. Also, Xanna gets a concussion from her rifle, and Moriarty makes his first appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for mentions of drug abuse and rape.

John woke up the next morning very groggily, vaguely hearing a song that he groaned upon recognizing it. 

“ _There’s a stranger in my bed_

_There’s a poundin’ in my head_

_Glitter all over the room_

_Pink flamingos in the pool_

_I smell like a mini bar_

_DJ’s passed out in the yard_

_Barbie’s on the barbeque_

_Is this a hickey or a bruise?”_

John’s immediate instinct was to curl up deeper inside his sleeping bag and try to fall back asleep, but the lights in the gym were on. He looked over at Sherlock, who looked wide awake and peaceful.

“You’ll get used to it,” he said, shrugging.

The song died down a few minutes later, much to John’s silent relief.

“Good Morning Baker Street! Today is Saturday, at 7:15 AM, and it’s a camp weekend! Breakfast this morning is pancakes, but first, please move all of your stuff from the gym out into the hallway and be back in here in time for PT. You have 15 minutes. By the way, I know it’s early in the morning, but I’m Xanna Davidson, I am the color guard captain along with Sherlock Holmes. James Seymour, our drum major, will not be here this weekend, so I will be in charge. If you have any questions or concerns, please see either me or Sherlock, or a staff member.” Xanna’s voice was loud and authoritative, and a bunch of the guard cheered as she made her way to her sleep stuff.

“What do we normally do for PT?” John asked as he rolled up his sleep stuff nice and neat.

“Depends. Xan’s probably going to do a cardio day today,” Sherlock said, dismantling his cot.

“Cardio” meant an exercise video that threw punches and kicks and by the end of it, and stretching, John was sweating.

Xanna laughed as she made her way over to the two boys. “Not used to cardio, John?” she asked. A light sheen of sweat had covered her naked arms, as she wore only a tank top and a pair of shorts, her hair being barely restrained by a hair tie.

“Not this kind,” he confessed.

“Sundays are normally stretching/yoga days, so that’ll be good for you,” she said sympathetically as they made their way to breakfast.

Breakfast was a quiet affair, with Xanna conducting business from her table, smiling and hugging new arrivals and directing them to various places.

“So much time for activities!” a girlfriend of hers from the guard squealed, hugging her.

“So go take a nap, hon,” Xanna said, hugging back with a laugh.

The two girls talked quietly about boys, while Sherlock poked at his pancakes and John wolfed his down hungrily.

“Good deed done for today,” Xanna joked once her friend disappeared. She cracked her neck, giving a quiet happy sigh.

“People seem to like you,” John noted around a mouthful of bacon.

“Obviously. Xan’s one of the most influential members here, due to her history here and her history elsewhere, as well as an extraordinary amount of patience, a good hand at teaching, and the willingness to listen,” Sherlock said. “It doesn’t hurt that half of the male population- and a good portion of the female population as well- think that she’s highly attractive.”

Xanna coughed on her juice, hitting her chest with a closed fist. “And where did you get THAT idea, Sherlock Holmes?” she coughed.

“Simple deduction,” he replied back, smirking as she continued to force juice out of her lungs.

“Yeah. I’d bet most of the men and women here would rather fuck you.”

Sherlock snorted. “I highly doubt that. You’re infinitely more loveable.”

“You have some of the best goddamn cheekbones I have ever seen!”

“You have good cheekbones too!”

“Covered up in MOUNDS of baby fat! I look like I’m 16!”

“Yes, and that makes you even more loveable. You’re adorable.”

It was Xanna’s turn to snort. And then burp very loudly and very unladylike.

Everyone turned and looked at her in horror or surprise, a few people whooping and hollering, congratulating her on the impressive burp.

Sherlock was now laughing, a deep baritone rolling through the laughter joining in. Xanna’s cheeks turned pink.

“Shut it, you prat,” she said, cuffing him upside the head. Sherlock shook his head and she rolled her eyes.

“Giant children, all of you!” she said, which made everyone else laugh even harder.

“Aww, but Xan, that was a good one,” a guy from the front ensemble called out.

“Ahh, shut it, Michael!” she called. She made a rude hand gesture, getting John to laugh as well. She seemed so sweet and- yes, he’d have to agree with Sherlock’s adjective, adorable- and now she was showing off how much of a tomboy she could be.

“I sincerely hope that you all get the flu!” she snarled.

“Really, Xanna, is that the best insult you can come up with?” Sherlock asked breathlessly.

“Except for you, Sherlock Holmes. I hope you get walking pneumonia!”

This caused an even louder laugh from everyone in the cafeteria.

John can see why everyone loved Xanna. She was sweet and fun loving, with a bit of a nasty streak inside of her. He wondered why she was getting defensive about being called adorable.

She left the cafeteria, grumbling about children and murmuring vaguely about needing to use the loo, and the laughter died down soon enough.

Sherlock looked at him and grinned. “And that’s why everyone loves Xanna Davidson,” he said.

“Why did she get so defensive about being called adorable?” John asked.

Sherlock sighed. “Xanna is often called adorable because of her looks. Even when she is dressed up and is wearing make up, she looks like a young teenager. Last year, the girls were told to ‘hooker it up’ with the make up. Everyone but her was able to look like low class whores. She was told she looked like a porcelain doll. There are other people who have been called adorable, but not the adorable she is. She likens it to being a puppy, or a kitten, or a baby bunny. She hates that most people don’t see her as a strong woman who is beautiful. She’s told she’s cute and adorable constantly. Her small stature doesn’t help matters much.”

John nodded thoughtfully. “But she is adorable.”

Sherlock smirked. “We all know it, and she knows it. Occasionally, she’ll play up the adorable card, but otherwise, she won’t.”

John thought about her tossing her rifle into ridiculous heights last night, how she made it all look so easy. He could see the tension in her back, though, the frustrated hisses that made it past clenched teeth, soft curses as it smacked down into her hands too hard. He thought about her elegance with the sabre, seeing that same tension in her small but lithe body but gentler, the look of distaste on her face as she wordlessly offered Sherlock her right hand, and with a loud “CRACK” her thumb was snapped back into place. He thought about the way she moved with the flag, like she was born to move that way, the little nuances that she would pick up on during choreography. The effortlessness in her body as she danced, looking like she was made for the ballet stage.

Sherlock nodded, no doubt deducing what John was thinking. “Yes. In guard, she isn’t adorable. She can be whoever she wants to be with a piece of equipment in her hand and some music playing.”  

Breakfast over, the two men made their way to rehearsal, where Xanna was already going over the details of the day before Lestrade, Anderson, and Sally came in.

“. . . I hope you all learn a lot today, and have a lot of fun,” she said, raising her eyebrows at the two who arrived late. “Push yourselves, and all will be good, yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Jess, why don’t you run stretches with the rest of the guard? Lestrade should be here at any moment.”

The trio retreated to the corner they were in yesterday, and they began their own stretches.

Today, stretching took longer, Xanna leading through various different stretching positions, including a few that dancers use. Sherlock had no difficulty, Xanna a little, and John a great deal.

“How do you bloody do this without falling over?” he asked, as Xanna stretched her leg straight up along her ribcage.

“Use a partner, or the wall,” she suggested.

Strong, pale fingers encircled his waist. “I got you,” said the rumbling baritone.

John stretched, Xanna coming over to help get his leg up.

The day proceeded like the night before, although this time, Sherlock or Xanna would leave to learn choreography, or perform an audition. One time, they had to do it together, as it was for captains.

John was mesmerized by the 3 minute rifle routine that they had learned individual pieces of and had quickly put together on water breaks. It was a study in dissonance really, seeing the tall, lanky pale and dark haired boy and the short athletic tanned and fair haired girl work together in such harmony, one not exerting dominance over the other in skill. Not even when they tossed the rifles and performed a turn- Sherlock, what they call a “skater turn”; Xanna, a pirouette- and caught them with their right legs in a back attitude, eliciting gasps and cheers from everyone. To John, Xanna had executed the better turn, but Sherlock’s was just as good.

And then Xanna slipped during a dance move underneath a rifle toss and the rifle came crashing down on her head.

The music stopped and Sherlock stopped to look at the girl, who was curled up in a ball, absently rubbing her head.

“’m fine,” she mumbled, and she stood up shakily. John could see tears streaking down her face. “Again. From the ton de flesh under the quad.” The order was given quietly, and after a silent battle with Lestrade, the older man pressed play and rewound the music a little bit. The second time the toss was performed by Xanna, it was executed perfectly and the audition continued and soon, it was over.

“That was beautiful,” Jess whispered. “I hope Xan’s alright, it wouldn’t be the first time, though.”

“She’s hurt herself before?” John whispered back, watching Xanna go take a seat, using her rifle as a means to keep her steady and upright.

“I’ve never seen her slip on a ton de flesh before, but she’s wearing socks,” Jess explained. “Last year, she dislocated her thumb during sabre auditions. It was bad, and she wasn’t supposed to spin. She did anyways.”

John shivered and made his way to her. “Hey, you alright?” he asked softly.

Xanna gave a weak smile and a thumbs up. “Hurts,” she mentioned. “No pain, no gain.”

He gently felt her head as Lestrade came over. “Giant goose egg, should probably keep an eye out for a concussion,” John said quietly.

Lestrade performed his own quick exam, Xanna wincing and mumbling about damn bloody medical people, she was fine, no she didn’t need painkillers, but thanks for the offer. Sherlock came back with a bag of ice wrapped in an old T shirt.

“Xanna, I want you to lie down someplace quiet,” Lestrade said. “And dark.”

“Les-“

“Don’t, Xan. This was a nasty fall you took.” The four took a look at her knees, which were scraped and bruised from the contact to the gym floor, and John noticed a small bruise forming on her cleavage.

“Fine,” she whimpered. “Could Sher and Johnny come with?”

John raised an eyebrow at the new nickname, but Sherlock shook his head.

“Of course, Xanna.” Lestrade looked at the two young men. “Get her bed, and set it up someplace dark, Sherlock. John, I want you to carry her, okay? And keep the icepack on her head.”

“How do you want me to do that?” John asked as Sherlock dashed for her air mattress.

“’verse piggy,” Xanna murmured. He noticed her eyes dropping.

“Hang on to the land of the living a little longer,” John encouraged, getting her into the position that she described. Sherlock came back and led the three to where her air mattress was set up.

“Cold,” she moaned softly.

“I got you, right here. Look I found Wesley’s sweater, do you want to wear that?” Sherlock asked, his voice gentle.

She nodded and they carefully maneuvered her into the grey sweater before laying her down underneath Garfield, which Sherlock referred to as “the monstrosity” and they tucked her in with the teddy bear, which she had named “Lieutenant Dan”. John supposed it was from the Forrest Gump movie.

“Wake her up every hour, just to make sure,” Lestrade whispered, seeing how quickly their charge fell asleep. “I’ll be back in at dinner to see if she’s up to eating.”

The two boys nodded and the older man left. Sherlock took up a limp hand of his friend and gently rubbed it. “She did this for me last year,” he confessed.

“What happened?”

“I took a rifle to the head- the sun was blinding me, I forgot sunglasses and I didn’t anticipate the wind. It came crashing down on me. She sat with me for hours, deliberately missing rehearsal to take care of me.” There was a note of affection towards the young woman on the air mattress.

“She means a lot to you,” John said.

Sherlock nodded. “I didn’t have any friends when I came to audition several years ago. Xanna was a vet, and she took me under her wing. Despite my off putting personality, she stuck by me, made sure I got enough to eat, got enough sleep, and had someone to talk to. She’s literally the most patient person I know. She’s my first friend.” His jaw clenched suddenly. “And I nearly lost her.”

“How?”

“James Moriarty. He took a liking to me my second year here, and Xanna and him had a rivalry for the top weapon spot. It was fierce, but Xanna always treated him with kindness and respect. James got me into cocaine and I nearly lost my contract here, towards the end of the season. Jim had pinned it all on me. Xan and I weren’t really speaking that year- she felt Jim was taking advantage of me, and I suppose he did. But I didn’t want to listen to her, and so she nearly gave up on me.”

“Is he here?”

“He’ll be here soon. He’ll be delighted to hear that she cracked her rifle on her head.” There was pure venom in his voice as he spat the words out.

“Did he do anything to her?”

Sherlock nodded. “But that’s for her to tell.”

Xanna’s hand gently squeezed Sherlock’s as she rolled into a more comfortable position in her sleep, making the two pause to watch her. John gently moved her ice pack so it cradled her head.

The two sat in most relative silence, John occasionally answering a text from his sister ( _alcoholic_ ). Every hour, they woke Xanna up and went through a litany of questions before allowing her to go back to sleep.

Lestrade came in a few hours later. “Hey, boys it’s dinner time. How’s she doing?”

“Replying with her usual snark and rude hand gestures,” Sherlock reported.

Lestrade nodded before gently waking up the sleeping girl.

“Whaddya want?” she mumbled, barely opening her eyes.

“Burgers, Xanna, do you want food?” the caption head asked softly.

“Fuck food. Lemme sleep.”

John had to grin at the frown that appeared on Sherlock’s face. Lestrade just sighed.

“Look, James is here, and if we don’t bring back a-“

“Gimme Termy,” she murmured, considerably more awake.

John raised an eyebrow, hoping for an explanation, but Sherlock shook his head, signifying that it would have to wait.

“Xan, Terminator is too far away, and you’re concussed,” Sherlock said, slight worry gnawing at his voice.

“Don’t care. Gimme Termy.”

“No, Xan. You need food, and you need sleep.”

“Fuck food. Fuck sleep. Termy. Now.”

“I have to agree with Sherlock on this,” Lestrade said. “You can show off in front of James tomorrow, but focus on getting better.”

She grumbled but acquiesced.

Sherlock and Lestrade left with their orders from John and Xanna, and Xanna curled up in a ball. John reached for her hand and she grasped it.

“Did Sher tell you why I’m like this with Jim?” she asked very softly, her voice slightly slurred.

John shook his head. “He said that was for you to tell,” he said quietly.

“Two summers ago, he raped me. After a performance in Dallas. Fuck, it hurt so bad. I reported him, but he was able to pin it on Justin Farkle, so Justin went home, and Jim remained.”

John sat there slack jawed.

“Flies are gonna go in,” she mumbled. John closed his mouth, and she sighed. “Jim thought that if I couldn’t walk the next day, I’d have to sit out of the ‘tlanta regional, and he could do my solo. Lucky for me, I managed to be able to walk, run, and spin, and I got to do my solo for ‘lanta.”

“That’s horrible!” John gasped.

“Mhm. Men and women have done far worse for lesser things,” she sighed. “Jim’s very manipulative, John. Whatever you do, don’t be drawn into his web. He’s a crafty little fucker, and I want you to stay away from him as much as possible.” Somehow, even in a confused state of mind, and with a slurred voice, John heard the command, and the warning.

“I’ll do my best,” he promised her, gently kissing her knuckles. She gave a soft chuckle as Sherlock and Lestrade came back with food. Lestrade wore a worried expression, and Sherlock’s angular face was positively stormy. Behind them, there was a shorter man, with close cut black hair, and wearing- from what John could tell- the best in athletic gear, all in black. Somehow, he got the feeling that this was Jim Moriarty.

Xanna groaned, whether from pain or seeing Jim, John didn’t know. “Jim,” she mumbled as he approached her, John propping her up against the wall so she could eat.

“Xanna! Are you okay?” Jim asked, his voice dripping with concern. He ran his hand over his stubble.

“Quad to the head. ‘m fine. This is just a precaution,” Xanna grumbled, glaring at Sherlock as he cut her cheeseburger into manageable bites.

“Oh my! Well, I hope you feel better soon.” The newcomer blew a giant bubble with the wad of gum that was in his mouth.

“James Moriarty. You know chewing gum is prohibited during rehearsal,” Xanna growled.

“Oh, I just got here, darling. Don’t worry your pretty little head, it’ll be out before rehearsal. Who’s the new meat?”

Xanna growled, and Sherlock stepped in, shoving a piece of burger into her mouth.

“This is John Watson. He’s auditioning with us, but since Xanna’s been teaching him, he’s been staying with her to help keep an eye on her,” Sherlock said. Xanna was shooting lasers at Sherlock, but he ignored them.

“Ahh. Hello, John. I’m Jim,” he said warmly, holding out his hand. John shook it, already mistrusting the boy in front of him. “Our Xanna is quite the knockout, isn’t she?”

“She certainly is very talented and pretty,” John said. Sherlock continued to stuff Xanna full of burger bites so she couldn’t comment.

“Well, I should probably go stretch. I’ll see you at snack!” With that, Jim leaned down, gently kissed Xanna’s forehead, and then pretty much skipped away as Xanna and Sherlock wrestled on the tiny air mattress. Lestrade had left at some point.

Once Xanna was exhausted and had finished eating, Sherlock laid her down and tucked her in.

“Don’t let him get to you, Xan,” John said, switching out the icepacks with a new one Lestrade had left them. “He’s a bully, and he says and does things to get a rise out of you.”

“Yes, but it’s because I KNOW what he did to me, and I want him to pay!” She growled. Sherlock chuckled his deep chuckle and handed her Lt. Dan.

“What IS Jim’s deal anyways? Like. . . orientation wise?” John asked.

“Gay as NPH,” Xanna said. Sherlock looked at her in confusion. “ _How I Met Your Mother? Doogie Houser, M.D.? Doctor Horrible’s Sing A Long Blog?_ ”

“He’s an actor who is gay,” John explained. “He’s able to play the part of a womanizer quite well.”

“Thank you, John. Xanna, you know I don’t pay attention to pop culture.”

“Oh, piffle.” She waved her hand.

“Then how was he able. . . .?” John flailed, looking for a delicate way to say the truth.

“He’s a sexual sadist,” Xanna said, shrugging. “He’s gay, but if he’s able to scare and harm a girl, and it’s enough to get him to that point. . . He doesn’t give a shit about his preferences then.”

“And who is ‘Termy’?”

Xanna giggled. “Terminator is my rifle. I call it ‘Termy’ for short.”

“Is it a common practice to name your equipment?”

“Yes” and “Unfortunately” came out at the same time, Sherlock sighing in resignation while Xanna giggled into her pillow. She yawned suddenly. “Sleepy.”

“Then go to sleep, brat,” Sherlock said affectionately.

John smiled indulgently as the girl drifted off again.

“She told me.”

“Obviously. I believe that the encounter she told you about wasn’t the first time she’s had intercourse with him. They were in a relationship- a very dismal one, but a relationship that ended with him declaring his sexuality.”

“Maybe he’s bisexual?” John suggested.

“No. He is gay; he had no problems getting it up for half of his lovers after Xanna. With Xanna, however, he had to have chemical help.”

John nodded. “It’s probably why he was able to manipulate her.”

“A good observation, John.”

The nurse on staff, Molly Hooper, came over to check on Xanna a few minutes later. She brushed Sherlock’s fingers almost absently, but John could tell that the contact was intentional. Women flirting were his specialty, after all.

“You got a nasty bump, Xanna. How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Jim’s here, what do you think?” Xanna grumbled. “I want nothing more than to go pound his ass with Terminator.”

Molly giggled. “Well, you need your rest.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Sherlock asked seriously, holding up four fingers.

Xanna squinted. “Four?”

“Good.” Sherlock closed her eyes. “Sleep, now.”

“Sod off.” But she did go back to sleep.

The process before dinner was repeated, Xanna’s voice starting to not slur as much when she replied, and getting occasionally violent when either John or Sherlock woke her up.

“It’s snack time, Xanna, how’s your head?” John asked. He ducked as the icepack was launched at his head.

“Food?” she inquired, perking up immediately.

Sherlock helped her stand and the two boys acted as her body guards. When they got to the cafeteria, they sat her down and Sherlock went to get food for the three of them while John sat with Xanna.

Jim slid into the seat across from her. “Hey, Xanna, how are you doing?” he asked, concern dripping.

“Better.” She grumbled.

“What were you doing wearing socks? You know that you always slip while you wear socks,” Jim pointed out, Sherlock glaring pointedly at him as he dropped John’s plate in front of him. Xanna’s was next, and she began to eat ravenously.

“I tore off half of my toenail the other day, and wanted to protect it,” she grumbled. “I also believe that my middle toe on my right foot is broken or jammed, and a little covering is better than none.”

Jim nodded, glaring as Sherlock pressed a chaste kiss to the top of Xanna’s head. It was clear to John that Jim still felt possessive of the woman in front of them. He changed the topic, which the other three were grateful for. If the arguments between Sherlock and Jim got too much for Xanna, all she would have to do is silence them with a glare.

After a shower, and helping Sherlock and Xanna drag their bedstuff back over into the gym, John watched as Jim and Xanna worked on some dance choreography. It was evident that Jim is just as skilled as the other two, and John hopelessly despaired that he wouldn’t ever be that good. Even for their rivalry, and Xanna’s annoyance at him (John couldn’t blame her, though), the two worked in perfect harmony together.

“See why they compete so much? To them, they are the greatest, and they hold respect for each other in this world,” Sherlock whispered. “But read his body language. It says ‘I want you’ but not in a sexual connotation. He wants to possess her, make her completely his. Make her into one of his minions. Now look at hers. It’s open, but it’s also distrusting. One hand is always in a twist, and look at how she moves her right leg. To most people, it would look like she’s just shifting into a more comfortable position. But her left leg has always been a stronger standing leg, and most of her weight is on it. She’s ready to fight, should the situation call for it. Our show has a romantic theme to it, so the three of us- me, Xan, and Jim- will probably be cast as the triangle. Should be interesting.”

John nodded, mesmerized. “Is she supposed to be going that high onto her toes?” he asked.

Sherlock looked and sighed. “No. She’s going en pointe, which, because she has neither the proper shoes or the proper training, she shouldn’t be doing. XANNA!”

Xanna landed a switch leap, grimacing at her landing. “What, Sherlock?”

“You’re going en pointe,” he told her sternly.

“Bah, humbug,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You know I can’t tell.”  
Sherlock chuckled and let her get back to the dance with Moriarty.

And when sleep overtook John, he welcomed it gladly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love comments and kudos!


	3. Sunday Auditions and More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the final day of auditions, and John Watson's feeling exhausted. He now also has to go to Xanna and Sherlock's flat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably mention that this fic is unbeta'd and unbritpicked, so if there's any inconsistencies/grammar/spelling that I should look out for, let me know!

_I heard there was a secret chord_

_That David played and it pleased the Lord_

_But you really don’t care for music, do you?_

_It goes like this, the fourth the fifth_

_The minor fall, and the major lift_

_The baffled king composing Hallelujah_

John groaned as he heard the song echo through the gym. His whole body ached, and he was appreciative of the soft song weaving it’s way through his ears.

The song died down soon enough, and Xanna looked a lot better this morning than she did before she was dragged into sleep way before John and Sherlock.

“Good Morning Baker Street! Please pack your things and be in here in fifteen minutes. Today’s breakfast is sausage and egg casserole! Just a few announcements from last night- just listen while you all wake up and pack. Brassline and percussion, for today, please wear jeans to show and tell, along with your corps shirt. If you do not have one, please see your section leaders or your staff. Color guard, wear black pants and the corps shirt. Same thing applies. Now, I know that I conked out real early last night, but I know I saw some people sneaking over to the opposite gender’s side of the room. People have and will be sent home. Also, one body per bed unless your bed got lost and you are looking for a replacement. And I will recite the number one rule of drum corps: DON’T BE AN ASSHOLE. I saw a lot of trash laying around in the cafeteria after snack last night. Also, we have lights out for a reason, please plan accordingly. And because we turn the lights off to sleep, don’t use the flashlight that’s on your phone and wake up the whole corps while you’re trying to find your way back. I get that sometimes you need to do that 4 AM pee, but don’t wake up the corps when you come in and out of the gym, just use your phone screens. And please- I can’t believe I’m saying this- but guys, PLEASE flush the goddamn toilets. Greg went in there last night and it was bloody disgusting. We get housing sites because we don’t do dumb shit like clog up the toilets and not flush them. And ladies, please do not flush your feminine hygiene products down the toilets. I know it’s tempting and convenient, but don’t do it, it fucks up the plumbing. Now let’s go and have a great day!”

“Does she always give those speeches?” John asked as he finished rolling up his bed and checking the time. He had 10 minutes still.

“When needed. You should see her when we get on the bus,” Sherlock grinned.

The day honestly went by in a painful blur, although John remembers a spectacular performance by Moriarty, Sherlock, and Xanna on rifle, going over the routine that took Xanna out the day before. John noticed that she was barefoot this time, and that the ton de flesh underneath her toss was a lot cleaner than the night before. It ended with the three of them doing a double toss turn around underneath really high tosses (“Seven!” was called out before the toss happened) and the three catching in different positions before posing. Sherlock had caught his flat, and immediately contracted, his back leg going into a forced arch. Xanna had caught hers straight up and down, and she slid into a graceful arabesque. Moriarty had caught his at a position called “port” and knelt down and looked almost adoringly up at Xanna. There was a slight grimace on his face.

After the corps meeting, there was a meeting held by the captains. It was evident that even though it wasn’t stated, Moriarty was also a captain.

“Hey, so that was a really good performance out there, well done all of you. I wish I was conscious for more of rehearsal,” here everyone laughed lightly with slight teasing, “but I can see all the work that everyone has put into it. Sherlock?”

Sherlock shrugged. “Just keep practicing.”

Xanna nodded. “Jim?”

Jim sighed. “I really don’t have much to say, you two nailed it. I’m really looking forward to this season, though. We have a good group here.”

Xanna nodded again. “Now, please see Jim if you are checking out equipment to take home. If you need to leave because of your mode of transportation or you live ridiculously far, go on and leave. Just let me know.”

John shuffled his way over to Jim to check out some equipment after the talks were done and he sat around chatting with some people before Sherlock and Xanna came to collect him.

“Hey, we heard that your mom said she can’t come get you, that your sister got into an accident?” Xanna said, her voice concerned.

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

“Well, you can come kip with us,” Xanna said with a smile. “We have a flat not that far from here; you’re more than welcome to come.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose-“

“I would highly call it imposing if we are extending an invitation, John,” Sherlock said dryly.

John blushed. “Well, I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”

“Of course not. Now get your things,” Xanna said. “Sherlock, why don’t you show him to the car, I’ll need to talk to Greg.”

“No problem. Come along, John.”

It took a short amount of time for Sherlock and John to load everything into the sedan that the two shared, in which they waited around for Xanna.

Xanna took a bit longer to come over to the car, talking and hugging people on the way. She finally made it to the car, tossing a set of keys out of her sweatpants pocket to Sherlock. “You’re driving.”

He caught the keys and they got in, with Xanna and Sherlock in the front, John in the back.

The ride to their flat was quiet, but quick, as they were there in about fifteen minutes.

“Third floor,” Sherlock said, answering John’s unasked question of where they lived in the ten story building. “I wanted fourth, but Xanna has a thing against the fourth floor.”

“In Oriental culture, the word for the number four is very similar to the word for death,” Xanna explained. “So it’s a mild superstition. Watching too many horror animes that deal with the fourth floor of a building also put the fear of God in me. Besides, three is my lucky number.”

“You guys are nutters,” John muttered.

Sherlock chuckled while Xanna grinned. “Aye, that we are, but I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she said. She slowly got out of the car, wobbling slightly. John noticed, and offered his arm.

“Such a gentleman,” she murmured as she used it to steady herself.

It took the boys four trips to get their stuff inside, after Sherlock sent Xanna to the couch and covered her up with a blanket. It seemed like he noticed her wobble as well.

By the time they were done, Xanna was fast asleep.

“She really shouldn’t have been spinning today,” Sherlock whispered softly to John as they sat around a cup of tea- Darjeeling for Sherlock; Earl Grey with milk for John. “She should’ve been sitting out, but she wouldn’t hear of it.”

“Because of Jim?” John asked, taking a sip.

Sherlock nodded. “The rivalry between them is ages long, way before the rape and getting me hooked on drugs.  They’re very similar, and yet so different. I think that’s why.”

John nodded. “Did it get worse after he raped her?” he asked.

“Obviously. Xanna went through a dark period in her life after tour was over. I went over to her house one day to check on her, and found her sitting over the bathtub, water running, as she cut the insides of her thighs.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“She also had a small duel with anorexia. I was able to help her more with that than the cutting. You’ll notice she always wears men’s shorts. It’s to hide the scars. The anorexia wasn’t serious by the time I got to her with that, a few bars of dark chocolate later reminded her that food is the best thing on the planet.”

“Is the rape why she wants to be a trauma psychologist?”

“Subconsciously, yes. You should watch her when we’re watching the news, she visibly tenses at the mention of rape. It doesn’t help that Wesley is in the Army, but, they’ll break up soon, he’s been lying to her.”

“How can you tell?”

“The phone conversations aren’t that long, and if she asks for him to call, he’ll come up with an excuse as to why he won’t. He’s not cheating, no, he knows how she’ll react to that, but he’s lying about something. And she’s questioning about whether or not he even wants to continue on. She’s thinking engagement and wedding and children within the next nine years.”

“Before she’s even 30? Why?”

“Engagement is the next logical step- they’ve been together for two years. Many people get engaged in less time than that. She wants the financial stability marriage will give her. And she wants children before she’s 30 because her mom had her at 35, and it was a very difficult pregnancy. We’re very lucky that Xanna did live, and turned out to be very healthy.”

“Low Apgar score?”

“Apparently, it was a 4 at one point. And she was underweight and premature. But she turned out to be healthy and bubbly.” Sherlock made a face. “Bubbly. That’s how her mom describes her when she was an infant. Bubbly.”

They heard Xanna yawn and the two of them watched as she yawned in her sleep, stretched, rolled into a more comfortable position, and continue on her peaceful journey.

“I hate it when she does that,” Sherlock muttered. “She won’t wake up for a couple more hours yet, though.”

John chuckled and his phone rang. He answered it, and took the call outside so he didn’t disturb the sleeping Xanna.

“It’s fine, Mom, the guard captains live like 15 minutes from the rehearsal site,” he assured her. “Sherlock and Xanna are real nice, and are taking good care of me.”

His mother sighed softly. “Well, it’s nice to know that you made friends this weekend. Next month’s the next camp, right?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Alright. Hopefully by then Harriet will be able to drive again.” The venom in his mother’s voice told him otherwise.

“Let me see if Xanna or Sherlock could give me a ride or something,” he suggested. “That way, you don’t have to rely on Harry.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea, John. I can’t wait to hear about your weekend.”

“How is Harry doing?” John asked.

“Oh, Harriet’s fine, a few scratches and a couple of cracked ribs. Also had to have her stomach pumped.”

“That’s the fourth time this year.”

“I know, John,” his mother said wearily. “But she’s an adult, and there’s nothing I can do to punish her except take away the car keys.”

“Tell her no alcohol in the house while she’s living there. Your house, your rules,” John said.

“And she’ll hide the bottles, John.”

He ground the palm of his hand into his eyes. Dealing with his alcoholic sister was grating on his nerves.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, John.”

“I don’t either Mum. Let me know when you’re able to pick me up.”

“Will do John. Take care. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

He hung up and went back into the apartment.

Xanna was still sleeping on the couch, sprawled out on it now. Sherlock was still in the kitchen, apparently fixing something to eat.

“She’s the cook,” he shrugged when John came over and inspected the hot dogs covered in shredded cheese. “How’s your alcoholic sister?”

“How did you. . . Never mind. Okay, she wasn’t in that major of a crash but she did have to have her stomach pumped for the fourth time this year. Mum’s at her wit’s end.”

“I imagine so. When she wakes up, talk to Xanna. Her father’s an alcoholic- although she insists he’s a lot better about his drink, I suspect it’s due to age- and it put her through hell in high school.”

“Are her parents divorced?”

“They were never married, Xanna was conceived out of wedlock. She uses the term ‘divorced’ because for her it’s easier to say that her parents were divorced than to explain that she was born out of wedlock. Idiots. They separated when she was five, due to his alcoholism and anger. When Xanna was old enough to understand, she was appalled and she absolutely was in a rut in high school. I think that’s why she joined drum corps, or part of it at least. She doesn’t have to think about him. It’s just her and the field and the music and the equipment.”

John nodded. “I’ll do that. Thanks, Sherlock.”

The two boys ate and it wasn’t long until Xanna came into the kitchen sleepily.

“Hey there,” John said.

Xanna gave a little wave and served herself food and grabbed a can of soda from the fridge. “She can’t have hot tea first thing when she wakes up,” Sherlock explained as the girl cracked open the can and began chugging it.

“Ahh, that’s better,” Xanna said, sitting down at the table and eating. “So, your folks called?”

“Yeah. My sister’s okay, just had to have her stomach pumped.”

“Alcohol?”

“Mhm. Fourth time this year.”

“Is rehab a possibility?”

John shrugged. “Harry’s been in a. . . rut for a long time.”

“Alternative sexual identity?”

John stared at her. “How did you know?” He was expecting that from Sherlock.

Xanna shrugged. “Most of the time, there’s a reason behind an addiction. One of those is trying to come to terms with an alternative sexual identity and coming out to people.”

John nodded. “Yeah, Harry’s a lesbian. Mom took it okay, Dad didn’t, though. Makes my situation fun.”

“Bisexual?”

John again stared. “How, again?”

“You don’t look gay at all, and the timbre of your voice isn’t right. You display several masculine tendencies, including hands in the belt loops and spreading your legs, as though to direct a woman’s attention to your crotch.” Xanna shoved another hot dog into her mouth.

Sherlock grinned. “This is basic psychology to her,” he explained.

“Wow. Go you,” he said.

She smiled. “Don’t worry, I display a couple of the tendencies as well. But I have yet to be mistaken for a lesbian. You’re probably more sexually and romantically attracted to women, but if the right man were to come along, you certainly wouldn’t object.”

John shook his head. “You’re good.”

“She’s what they call ‘bi-curious’. She would like to see what sex is like with a woman, but finding someone that would be ‘her type’ is tricky. She’s VERY picky with her women.” Sherlock smirked at her.

“Sherlock’s deal is either homosexual, asexual, or sapiosexual. Only time will tell. Or he will.”

“Sapio what?” John was confused.

“It means he’s attracted to intelligence,” Xanna explained. “Sexually, that is.”

“He gets turned on by intelligence?” John sounded skeptical.

Xanna shrugged. “There’s people who have a fear that gravity will crush them,” she said.

“That’s bizarre. Gravity is a proven fact.” John said.

“Actually, gravity is just a theory, because it is something that cannot ever be tested to the extent of absolute verification.” Sherlock said proudly.

“Shut up, show off.”

“You should off with your psychology.”

“Psychology is important.”

A phone rang. All three checked their phones, and Xanna answered.

“Xanna.” She listened for a while. “Yes, I have the notes typed up and they’re in your inbox. In your school email. I sent them to you over Facebook as well. Well, it’s not my fault. You know Bragniski is going to test us over the material on Wednesday. Yes, please bring food. Try to bring chocolate. Yeah. I know, woe is me. 3 hours of abnormal is going to be hell. Peace and love, sista.” She hung up. “Sorry, school stuff.”

“It’s okay,” John said. “Oh, by the way, could one of you guys drive me to camp next month? My mom wants to be sure that Harry’s able to drive by then, but I don’t know. I said I’d ask.”

Sherlock nodded. “Yeah, write down your address,” Xanna said, sliding over a piece of paper and a pen. The paper had notes in both Xanna’s and Sherlock’s hand writing, saying things like _pickled brain in the fridge, don’t remove-SH_ and _gone out for coffee with Ashleyy, be back soon-X_ and _SHERLOCK REMOVE THE EYES FROM THE ICE TRAY OR I’LL HOOK UP ELECTRODES AND RUN ANXIETY TESTS ON YOU LIKE A LAB RAT_ and _Why is your psychology club meeting so long? You guys just talk about sex and act like children. In the Lab –SH._ Dutifully, he wrote down his address, adding a “JW” at the end.

Her phone rang again and she answered it. “Xanna.” She sighed. “James, I told you where the key is a hundred times. No, I will not make a copy, there’s already four copies floating around. You should have yours. No, Sherlock and I are home. Remember, concussion? Lestrade gave us permission to leave early. You were in charge of equipment check out. Yes, I know next month is my turn. We can meet at five on Friday to go over choreo. No, I will not make cupcakes. I don’t care, James. I will call you James if I want. Fuck you too.” She hung up and took another swig of soda. “God, I hate that fucking idiot.”

Sherlock shook his head.

“You know, for being a genius, he’s such an idiot. He’ll text me back in ten minutes, saying he found his keys.” She looked at Sherlock. “Why are you geniuses such idiots?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and shoved at her playfully.

The rest of the night was spent laughing and talking, with Xanna and John watching the episode of Doctor Who that Xanna had recordedbefore they took him home.

And when John went to sleep, hearing his parents argue with Harry about her drinking and her car, he went to sleep with a smile on his face, thinking of guard and Sherlock and Xanna and the new experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the version of "Hallelujah" that Xanna wakes the drum corps up to (and it's a Sherlock fanvid). This song will actually recur throughout the fic.   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fm4iRZO77Xg
> 
> Comments and Kudos are appreciated!


	4. What's Up With Xan?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is up with Xanna, but beyond breaking up with her boyfriend and it having to deal with Moriarty, Sherlock and John are at a loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize, this is a very short chapter. The next chapter will make up for it, I promise.

The next month went by in a cloud for John Watson. He threw himself into his studies, the holidays, and practicing, sending videos to Xanna and Sherlock. He was usually able to get ahold of one of them at any given time throughout the day, and there would always be a critique that one of them would miss that the other would pick up on. Xanna came over a few times to help John, saying it was easier when she can actually see what’s going on. His parents adored Xanna, and even Harry enjoyed it when the spunky girl came over, although John suspected it was because Xanna was a very sexy woman.

One day she came over and was unusually short with him, until he asked her about it. It was about another week until camp.

She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. “I broke up with Wesley,” she stated.

“How come?”

“Well, he came home a week ago for break, for Christmas, right? Well, he and I were talking about where we wanted this relationship to go, or, rather, where I thought it was heading. AKA marriage. Well, he doesn’t know if I’m the girl he wants to spend the rest of his life with!” She puffed herself up and, John guessed, pretended to be her now ex. “’The Army has changed my perspective on things’. REALLY?” She shook her head. “Not to mention that he was ‘on base’ for Thanksgiving.” She put “on base” in quotes.

“He was home, and he didn’t tell you?” John was shocked.

“Yeah. Neither did his parents. So. . . Yeah. I dumped his ass. And it’s upsetting. This is what two and a half years of my life did. And the worst part is Jim knows, and he’s been. . . nasty.”

John tried to pry out of her what Moriarty was doing, but she kept mum and continued helping him. She did look a lot more relaxed, and even apologized for being so short.

John understood, but Xanna saying that Jim’s been nasty worried him, knowing their prior history.

After she left, John texted Sherlock.

_What has Jim been doing to Xanna?_

The reply came back almost immediately.

_I don’t know. She won’t tell and I can’t deduce it. Was hoping she’d tell you. –SH_

John frowned. That was NOT the response he was hoping for.

_Well, all she would say is that he’s been nasty._

_Interesting. She gave you more information than she gave me. –SH_

John huffed.

_That’s not reassuring._

The next reply made him smile.

_I have to attend their next dance rehearsal, since it’s a tug of war type thing that they’ve been busy choreographing for. I’m going to try to get some information then. Tedious, but since it’s a puzzle, I’m more than happy to try to find out. –SH_

_By the way, you should come and watch at your convenience. If inconvenient, come anyways.  –SH_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are Shiny!


	5. The Dance Rehearsal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John goes and watches Jim, Xanna, and Sherlock practice their dance for a competition. He and Sherlock then ponder the problem of Moriarty.

John arrived at their next dance rehearsal, and Xanna gave a surprised smile, but she was pleased. Today she was wearing a black leotard, black tights, and black ballet flats.

“I like them better to dance in. It’s for a competition up at the local high school,” she explained, when John asked her about it. Sherlock nodded, wearing a black V-neck and black gym shorts, and not for the first time John found him irresistibly attractive.

Jim came in as Sherlock fiddled with the sound system and Xanna was stretching her neck. “Hello, everybody!” he announced, swinging his leg over Xanna’s head. John noticed a slight flinch, so slight that he thought he missed it. The look of disgust on Sherlock’s face told him that, no, he didn’t miss it.

“Oh, Johnny, you’re going to watch?” he asked, setting a duffel bag down and taking a drink of water. He was chewing gum again.

“You better spit that gum out before we begin dancing,” Xanna warned, switching sides of her neck.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said in a teasing voice, but it made the hairs on the rookie’s neck crawl.

“John, operate the sound system,” Sherlock said.

“Sherlock,” Xanna sighed.

“What?”

“You’re supposed to ask.”

“Really?”

“It’s fine, Xanna, I don’t mind,” John said with a reassuring smile.

She smiled back, and Sherlock went over the sound system while he saw Xanna finish her stretches and Jim spit out his chewing gum.

“Sherlock, do you need to stretch anymore?” Xanna asked.

Sherlock shook his head.

“Alright. From the top,” Xanna said.

John hit play, and then proceeded to watch.

Whoever choreographed the dance that was going on between the three of them was absolutely astounding. It was clearly evident that Jim was the bad boy in the story, and Sherlock was the guy in the friendzone. Xanna was absolutely breathtaking, her expressions conveying the conflict as she fell into a trust fall into Jim’s arms, only to pirouette into Sherlock’s, and back and forth she went, the pain on her face increasing. Neither of the men played with much emotion themselves, for which John had no reason for, until Xanna broke free of the tug of war (which, by this point, one arm was delegated to the men on either side, and they were literally pulling her from side to side) and sprinted away, and they fought while Xanna danced off to the side, trying to decide who to go to.

Which in the end was Sherlock, therefore breaking away from Jim.

John clapped as the song came to an end and they posed. “Sorry, but that was brilliant. Who choreographed that?”

“I did,” Sherlock said, his eyes blinking.

“It’s really good,” John said.

“Thank you,” he said, preening slightly.

The three then proceeded to talk about timing, pointed feet, and expressions.

“Don’t think I didn’t catch you guys performing. We’re doing this in front of an audience TOMORROW and you two look like bloody Cybermen!”

The blank look from both geniuses set John off laughing.

“Robots!!”

“Oh.” Both men looked sheepish.

“You guys deleted my analogies again, didn’t you?”

They nodded.

“Someone fucking kill me,” Xanna muttered. “Alright. No more robots. You both want me, you’re fighting like animals over me. The personalities of your characters should be coming through. Jim, you’re the bad boy. You’re supposed to be arrogant, domineering, almost possessive. Sherlock, you’re the sweet person that I could almost never having a relationship with. PUT SOME HUMANITY into this performance, or we’re not going to do well. What more do I have to do to get it through your thick skulls?”

“Blow jobs,” Jim said. “As positive reinforcement.”

John spit his water out.

Xanna looked disgusted. “Jim, no. Your dick has been in other people’s asses, I ain’t touching that. Besides, you’re gay, I don’t give blow jobs to gays. And Sherlock’s asexual, he’s not going to want it.”

“Thanks, Xanna,” Sherlock said sarcastically.

“Don’t mention it,” she replied back just as sarcastically. She turned back to Jim. “Something not sex related, perv.”

“Would wearing your uniforms help?” John asked.

Three pairs of questioning eyes turned on him.

“Sorry. . . Just a suggestion,” he said, embarrassed.

“No, no, it’s actually a good idea, John,” Xanna said thoughtfully. “We all have our outfits?”

The boys nodded.

“Alright, then let’s go change,” Xanna said.

“There’s only one bathroom in this facility, and it’s tiny as fuck,” Jim pointed out.

“Then we draw straws. Short straw gets the bathroom,” Xanna said.

Sherlock got the straws out and handed them to John, who obediently made sure the tops were of even length after shuffling them and holding them out.

Jim got the short straw, which made him really happy (for whatever reason) and he skipped off with his duffel bag.

“He’s mental,” John said as the two friends began to strip, politely averting his eyes.

“Yeah, he is,” Xanna agreed, already halfway undressed. “Fucking tights.”

“Leotards,” Sherlock groaned disdainfully. It took John a moment to realize that under that V-Neck, he was wearing a leotard.

John suddenly had a hard time remembering how to breathe.

“Oi, John!” Xanna snapped her fingers in front of John’s face after a moment. “Where’d we loose ya too?”

“I have no clue,” he said honestly.

She chuckled, rolled her eyes playfully, and she turned around. “Could you zip this up? I could do it, but it’s painful to try to turn it around after it’s zipped.”

“Sure,” he said, zipping up her skirt.

“Thanks,” she said with a smile. She was now wearing a light pink tank top tucked into a darker pink skirt. Her tights were now white, but she kept on the black ballet flats.

“Beautiful, Xanna!” Jim pronounced as he walked into the room, wearing black leggings (at least, that’s what they look like to John), and a black tank top, the effect intending to be arousing and giving off that bad boy vibe. Xanna smiled politely.

Sherlock on the other hand, was wearing black yoga pants (again, what they look like to John) and a dark purple button down that looked to be too small for him, with the way the buttons strained upon his pale chest. It was highly arousing.

“Alright, again, with feeling! And may that feeling not be apathy!” Xanna announced.

The dance this time around did have so much more feeling, with both men pleading and wanting, Jim’s character promising her a fast life of drugs, money, and sex while Sherlock’s promised her a safe life where she would be cared for properly. It was now truly awe-inspiring to watch.

John clapped again when the song ended. They talked for a little bit and got water before deciding to do their solos.

“Jim, you go first, my hip locked up,” Xanna said.

“Sure thing,” he said. He found his song and held the cursor on it for John.

“When you’re ready,” she said, motioning for John to be ready.

The first few notes of “Move Your Body” by My Darkest Days rang out through the small area where they were practicing. Jim’s dance exuded pure sex, adrenaline, and that slight bit of insanity. His movement was graceful and proud, arrogant even. John was spellbound by it, and clapped at the end.

“Sherlock,” Xanna started to say, but the person voiced was already making his way to John.

“She’s in pain,” John noted, noticing the way Xanna winced as she tried to unlock her hip. “Should I. . .”

“No,” Sherlock said quietly, finding his song. “She’ll be fine, for now. Afterwards, yes, she’ll need ice and naproxen. When we get back to the flat, she’ll need it massaged.”

John nodded and once Sherlock got into position, hit play.

It was the version of “Hallelujah” that Xanna had played at last camp. The dance was absolutely breathtaking, the way that Sherlock would at times literally interpret the lyrics into dance astounding and beautiful.

The dance ended far too soon in John’s opinion, and he clapped enthusiastically.

“My turn,” Xanna said, Jim helping her to her feet. She rolled out her hip a few times before coming over and selected her song. Once in position, John pressed play.

The song choice surprised John, with it being Breaking Benjamin’s “What Lies Beneath” and she performed it beautifully, her movements at times violent without intending to be, her face one of a tortured vow of vengeance.  

“Beautiful,” Sherlock murmured.

“Xanna, that was marvelous! I really love that diva drop,” Jim crooned, hugging her. She hugged him back with a sick smile.

“Thanks, dear,” she said. It was clear to John that she was speaking to Sherlock.

“Do we have any duets this round?” Jim asked.

“Not unless we recycle,” Xanna said.

All three made faces.

“Any more trios?” Sherlock asked.

Xanna shook her head. “Let’s go over the trio we do have one more time. With feeling again. Boys, that was amazing.”

The rehearsal went on with two more renditions of the trio dance, and everyone going over their solos with critiques  three more times.

“Alright, we’ll knock it out of the park tomorrow,” Xanna said. She was keeping a smile on her face, but John could see how much pain she was in. “Go home, get sleep, eat well, and we meet for h and m tomorrow.”

Jim left first, swooping down to kiss Xanna on the cheek and to ruffle John’s hair before doing so. Once he was gone, she collapsed, hissing.

Sherlock had a bottle of water to her lips and two naproxens which she took eagerly.

“When we get back to the flat, we can get ice and John can massage your hip,” he told her. “For now, can you walk?”

“If someone carries my bag,” she said, pointing to the bright red duffel bag that had “Baker Street Color Guard 2009” embroidered on the side.

“I got it,” John said, heaving it onto his shoulder.

“Thanks, John, you’re a saint,” she said, leaning slightly on Sherlock as they walked out to the car.

Once back to the flat, Xanna quickly got out and dressed in shorts and a tank before collapsing on the couch. “It normally doesn’t lock up for this long,” she grumbled.

John sat down next to her and began massaging it gently.

“Oh, that’s good,” she groaned, her hand gripping the armrest.

“Xanna, I’m making you some food, what do you want?”

“Something light, since you fed me an NSAID without food!” she called back, hissing as John went over a sensitive spot.

“Sorry,” he apologized.

“It’s okay,” she soothed, calming down a bit. “Just a shock, that’s all.”

This went on for about an hour, with Xanna seething and eating, John massaging, and Sherlock stretching out on the other side of the couch.

Xanna fell asleep while John was massaging her hip, and so he went and placed ice on it, then watched some TV on low volume so he didn’t disturb either of his hosts.

It was Sherlock who spoke first.

“Sexual jokes.”

John whipped his head from where an episode of _Supernatural_ was. “What?”

Sherlock gave him a thunderous glare. “I don’t like repeating myself. Sexual jokes.”

“You mean the ones Moriarty was making?” John was confused.

“Exactly. What can we deduce about that?”

John looked at him, bewildered.

“He wants to make her uncomfortable, please do keep up John.”

“Sorry,” he apologized. “Why would sex make her uncomfortable?”

“An interesting question,” Sherlock agreed. “She’s actually very comfortable with the idea of sex, having had coitus multiple times, and enjoys jokes of a sexual nature.”

“So maybe it’s Moriarty himself,” John suggested.

Sherlock tucked his fingers underneath his chin in a prayer position. “Hmmm. . . Interesting,” he said. “However, it would make sense, considering what he did to her.”

John nodded, looking over at the softly snoring Xanna. He checked the time. “I have to get home.”

“Of course. I’ll take you there myself,” Sherlock said. He left a quick note for Xanna.

The car ride back to John’s house was quiet, until they were about a block away. “6.”

“Sorry, what?” John asked, having been staring out the window so he didn’t have to look at this gorgeous man’s face.

“Tomorrow. 6. The dance competition. You’ll need to be there.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I said so. The game is afoot, and I need someone who isn’t competing to keep an eye on Jim.”

John nodded. “I need to be picked up,” he told him.

“I’ll pick you up at 5:30. Don’t be late. Jeans and a Tee will be fine.”

They arrived at John’s house shortly after. “Well. See you tomorrow,” John said, awkwardly.

Sherlock gave a ghost of a smile. “Of course, John.”

John got out of the car and went inside to do his homework and shower. He told his mom, and she made him promise to take the video camera so she can see an actual performance.

John was thankful that he was able to escape to his room before Harry came home, slurring drunk. He had a difficult time falling asleep that night, thinking of Moriarty and Sherlock and Xanna and Moriarty and Sherlock.

Especially Moriarty.

 _Especially_   Sherlock.

Tomorrow was going to be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are Shiny!!


	6. The Dance Competition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John goes to their dance competition, and the trio realizes that Jim has a new target- and his name is John Watson.

John was ready by 5:15. Good thing, because Sherlock arrived at 5:25.

“Xanna’s already there,” he explained as John got in the car, holding the video camera. “Why do you have that?”

“Mom wants me to video tape the performance, so she can see it,” John said, shaking his head.

Sherlock said nothing, raising his eyebrow. “Why does she want to see it?”

John shrugged. “Beats me. Probably because she’s only seen Xanna, and Xanna is rarely spinning or dancing when she’s over.”

Sherlock nodded. “Did you have to wear such an ugly jumper?”

John looked down at the light blue cable knit jumper he had chosen to wear. “My jumpers aren’t ugly,” he defended.

“This one is. Honestly, John. It’s a cable knit.”

“So?”

Sherlock quieted, and the rest of the drive to the high school was silent, having them arrive at 5:50.

“Thanks for coming, John,” Xanna said. She was wearing a bright orange jacket, with her name embroidered in black on her left breast.

“Is Jim here yet?” Sherlock asked.

She shook her head. “You’re on first, solo wise.”

“You’re on last?”

She nodded.

“Wow. Again?”

“Dead last this time.”

“How’s your hip?” John asked.

“Oh, it’s good,” she said with a smile. “I was able to unlock it yesterday after you left. Thanks for massaging it, by the way. That helped a lot.”

“It was nothing,” John said.

“Right, we need to go do hair and make up,” she said to Sherlock, who made a face. “John, find a seat in the fourth row, Sherlock took the liberty of purchasing you a ticket.”

As if on cue, Sherlock gracefully withdrew a ticket for him.

“umm. . . Thanks.”

“No problem, now, off you pip,” she ordered.

John got settled in his seat in the fourth row, right in the middle. He was fiddling with the camera when his phone buzzed.

_Don’t mind her when she gets bossy. She always thinks she’s in charge –SH_

John huffed a laugh.

_No problem, I figured that she needs it._

The reply came back almost immediately after John hit send.

_It’s her way of making sure that she’s in control of herself. Can’t wait to tell her that Wesley will be here tonight. –SH_

John frowned.

_I thought Wesley was somewhere in the middle of nowhere?_

_He was. He’s home on leave again- grandfather died. So, he’s here to try to apologize to Xanna and watch her perform. Of course, all he wants is sex. –SH_

John swallowed.

_Don’t tell her. It’ll throw her off her game, and she won’t perform well tonight. Do you want her to score higher than Moriarty?_

_Why shouldn’t I tell? Wouldn’t she like to know? –SH_

_At this moment? No. Xan probably just wants to perform, win, and maybe celebrate with a pizza, a bottle of wine, and a bad action film._

John was making this up, of course. He had no idea what Xanna would like to do after she performs.

_Besides, from what she told me, she doesn’t really want anything to do with him._

_Interesting. . .I had not considered this. –SH_

_No shit, Sherlock. Is Moriarty there?_

_Yes. Being obnoxiously homosexual._

John cracked up laughing.

The lights dimmed, and the show started shortly after that.

John dozed a little bit, the people performing right then weren’t very good, expressions of hesitation on their faces before executing a difficult move.

“Number 28, Sherlock Holmes.”

John hurriedly turned on his camera and aimed it at the stage, hitting record as the tall man took the stage.

Sherlock was breath taking, wearing those pants and that shirt. He looked slender and lithe, not absurdly skinny. His curls were artfully tousled, and it looked like someone had decided to accent those quicksilver eyes and disgraceful cheekbones.

Once again, John couldn’t remember how to breathe as he watched this incredibly indecent man put on a performance that seemed to speak directly to John.

The entire audience, which up until this point had given lukewarm applause, gave a roaring cheer as Sherlock ended his performance. He then gave a small bow towards the audience and glided off the stage.

The performances after that considerably got better.

“Number 34, James Moriarty.”

John dutifully pressed record as Jim came on the stage, looking all for the world like he belong with the tough guys. He wasn’t chewing gum (Xanna would be happy), but he was sporting a makeshift rose tattoo on his right shoulder. His dark eyes lit up when he saw John with the camera, and that smile twisted John’s insides.

The music came on, and Moriarty sprang into action with his dance, looking like a graceful tiger. People were dancing in their seats as Moriarty performed, his eyes gleaming with an almost insane look.

They also seemed to be permanently fixed on John, who squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. He scowled at the tent in his jeans as he stopped recording as Moriarty finished. The crowd whooped and hollered as he strutted off the stage, not even bowing.

 _Calm down. He’s not that good looking and he’s a prick,_ he admonished his anatomy.

People started to get bored, as did John’s body. Everyone after Moriarty were just too. . . technical. Even John can see that.

“Number 50 and our final soloist of the night, Alexandria Davidson.”

John fumbled with the camera, hitting record just in time for Xanna to walk out on stage. Her hair was now in soft ringlets, and her eyes were striking. Pink and white really did suit her.

As she danced, people sang along with the lyrics quietly, and John couldn’t help but do the same. It was one of his guilty pleasures.

The song ended all too soon, and Xanna received a standing ovation. John stood up with the rest of the crowd as she gave a small little curtsey.

It was now time for intermission, which was thirty minutes. He stayed in his seat, waiting for them to come to him.

He wasn’t disappointed.

“Hey, John,” Xanna said, plopping down in the seat next to him. She immediately filched the camera and began looking for her solo. It didn’t take her long, and soon, she was watching it. John looked at Sherlock, who shrugged. He then looked at Jim, which was a mistake.

Jim’s eyes now had a predatory gleam to them, and this time, it wasn’t directed at Xanna.

It was directed at him.

The swelling in his lower anatomy came back.

 _Fuck,_ John thought, shifting a little. Sherlock noticed and was busy studying Moriarty and John, while Xanna groaned.

“Fuck that! No wonder I was early! I missed a rotation of the illusion!” she growled.

“Calm down, Xanna, I’m sure that the judges didn’t even notice,” Jim laughed.

“No, you don’t understand! This was _perfect._ ”

John chuckled.

“Xanna, you know better than to watch your performance right after you perform,” Sherlock chided.

“I can’t help it!” she groaned. “Well, it’ll be scored well, but not as high as I hoped.”

“We should get backstage for the trio,” Jim said. “Catch you later, John.”

“Sure,” he said as Xanna handed him the camera back.

When his phone buzzed, it was Xanna.

_Why the fuck did Jim look at you like you were a prime rib? –X_

_I honestly have no clue. He did it during his solo, too. It’s making me uncomfortable._

_And aroused –X_

John stared dumbfounded. Xanna was busy critiquing her solo. . .

_I have eyes and can multi task with them. Please, don’t encourage Jim. I know that he doesn’t look sexy and he’s an arrogant prick, which SHOULD turn you off of him, but it’s more than that. Jim presents himself as an Alpha male, exuding confidence and sex, as though he’s trying attract a mate. Biologically speaking, that means that he’s going to be able to pass down the bloodline and makes people want to have sex with him. Confidence IS sexy, and Jim has that to make up for his semi-decent looks and his shitty personality. He can be a real charmer, though. So please, watch out. –X_

John looked from his phone down to his groin and back again. How was Xanna able to figure that out?

_I’ll do my best to not encourage him. How were you able to figure something like that out?_

Her response made him smile.

_Why do people go for Dean Winchester instead of Sam? –X_

_Point made. Break a leg._

_Thanks –X_

The lights dimmed again and it was four duets and three trios later before theirs.

“Trio number 4, please welcome Alexandria, James, and Sherlock!”

John whooped and hollered with the rest of the crowd as they took the stage.

The music began, and John focused on watching them all, watching Xanna turn into Jim’s arms, glide into Sherlock’s, fall into Jim’s, over and over again before they started trying to tear her apart like a rag doll before she broke free. Off on the side, she began to turn and dance in worry as the two men fought, making it an erotic sight.

 _Fuck,_ John internally swore, willing his stiffy down. _No. I will not get hard to the sight of Sherlock and Moriarty fighting. No._

His cock puffed up even more angrily inside his jeans, and he hissed softly in pain.

Soon, Xanna was running into Sherlock’s arms, who picked her up gracefully and twirled her, while Moriarty stared in shock. The dance ended with a placating plea from Jim, and a sweet (fake) kiss between Sherlock and Xanna.

Thunderous applause arose, as well as a few cheers. Sherlock bowed, Xanna curtseyed, and Moriarty saluted before they went off stage.

He didn’t see them again until the top 10 soloists came back out, fifteen minutes later.

Moriarty got fifth, to which John couldn’t help but snicker under his breath. He accepted his ribbon and very tiny trophy with a sick smile, his gaze hardened.

Sherlock got third, which he accepted the considerably larger trophy, ribbon, and check (they got money for this?) with a firm, polite smile that spoke _stop touching me_ to the presenter.

Xanna got first, which everyone cheered for as she got the same things as Sherlock (the trophy was nearly bigger than her) with a huge, beaming smile. Moriarty was scowling, John noticed.

Their trio also got first, so John had his hands full helping the three of them to their respective vehicles.

“Angelo’s, Jim?” Xanna asked. John got the feeling she was only asking to be polite.

“Sorry, love, I got a paper to write that’s due Monday, and I haven’t begun on it,” he said. “Congrats, though.”

“Thanks,” Xanna said. “Well, I’ll see you Saturday, then?”

“But of course! See you then, John, Sherlock!”

Sherlock gave a brisk nod, while John gave a weak wave in parting.

“To Angelo’s!” Xanna proclaimed once they were in the car.

“What’s Angelo’s?” John asked as he got settled in the backseat.

“An Italian place. Sherlock helped the owner out a few years ago, so we eat there for free,” Xanna explained. “Delicious food, and good wine.”

John nodded and relaxed on the car ride over, with Sherlock and Xanna talking about the competition.

At Angelo’s, the owner was delighted to see them, and led them to a corner booth. Sherlock got the window seat, and proceeded to gaze out of it.

“New boyfriend, ‘Ria?” Angelo asked, gesturing to John.

Xanna laughed. “No, Angelo. In fact, I thought I saw Wesley in the crowd tonight. Mind telling him that I’m not here?”

“Of course, m’dear! So, is he Sherlock’s?”

Sherlock snapped his head at the sound of his name. John turned bright red while Xanna laughed again.

“No, Angelo. This is John Watson, he’s a good friend of ours,” she said.

“I’ll still get a candle for the table. Much more romantic!” he wandered off, Xanna shaking her head.

“Don’t mind him, he means well,” she said as he returned with a candle and the menus. “Sherlock, what wine?”

“White zinfandel, please,” Sherlock replied, his gaze back on the window.

“Any year before ‘80’s good,” Xanna smiled.  Angelo nodded and hurried off.

Sherlock ordered a lasagna, John a spaghetti, and Xanna a chicken fettuccine alfredo with broccoli. “Don’t judge,” she warned as she sipped the wine and nodded her approval.

The meal was passed with joviality and happiness, Sherlock actually eating and not just poking at his food.

Sherlock dropped Xanna off (she wanted to go back early to go finish a paper) and then proceeded to drive John home.

“He’s fixated on you,” Sherlock said. “Moriarty. He wants you.”

“Thanks, didn’t think I noticed,” John said sardonically. “It’s creepy.”

Sherlock nodded. “Be careful.”

John nodded in reply, and not another word was spoken until they were a block from John’s again.

“I’ll text you before we pick you up,” he said.

John nodded. “Thanks again.”

“Of course,” Sherlock said.

John handed the camera over to his mom, promising to watch it with her the next day, and headed up to bed.

He was just about to sleep peacefully when his phone buzzed. Curious, John opened the text and gasped at who was the sender.

_Hello, Johnny, how are you? –JM_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, you may hate me because I left you on a cliffhanger!
> 
> Comments and Kudos are Shiny!!


	7. Texting Jim Moriarty (and Sherlock)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's texting Moriarty. But he's also texting Sherlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where it's really evident why I have a Teen rating. I'll probably be moving it to Mature/Explicit as the fic progresses. I haven't figured out how to write in the smut, and who the smut should be between.

 

John Watson had no clue how to reply to this text message from _Jim fucking Moriarty._

He stared at it before locking his phone up again and resting his head against the pillow. He’ll answer it when he has a response.

_Talk to Sherlock. Yes. Xan would freak out. Talk to Sherlock, then respond. Good plan, Watson._

Plan in place, he fell asleep.

When he woke up the next morning, he checked his phone again. That same text message was still there, and he groaned.

James Moriarty has taken an interest in him, and but why? He was just John Watson.

He remembered his plan from the night before and texted Sherlock.

_Jim texted me last night. I didn’t respond. WTF do I do?_

_WTF? –SH_

John could’ve face palmed. Or punched Sherlock. Or Jim. All three options sounded appealing.

A cuppa should help. Yes.

_WTF = What The Fuck._

_Ahhh text abbreviation. I see. I prefer to spell everything out, John, it saves time usually spent on miscommunication. –SH_

_Of course it does. Answer my question, you dick._

He began making himself a cup of tea, humming softly.

_I’d say answer back and see what he wants. I know Xanna would prefer it if you torched him or did something equally destructive, but she also understands that you seem to have a sexual attraction to him. –SH_

John was staring at his phone an awful lot lately. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not.

_I saw the erection as well, John. Really, you should know that I catch everything. Xanna’s getting there. Most people see and don’t observe. –SH_

_Great,_ John thought. _My two closest friends and the prick who likes me observe every fucking thing. Goodbye secrets._

_Thanks for the tip._

_Keep me updated. –SH_

John snorted and pulled up Jim’s message. Those five words seemed to taunt him.

_Hey Jim. Sorry, fell asleep. How are you?_

He was steeping his Scottish Breakfast tea when his phone buzzed.

_I asked you first, Johnny. –JM._

_I’m doing fine, thank you, how about yourself?_

_Oh, doing just dandy. Just woke up? –JM_

_Yes._

_Bet that’s a sight to see, Johnny. –JM_

Great. Sexual innuendos at 9 AM. Lovely.

_No clue what you’re talking about, Jim._

Yes. Play dumb. That always works. Doesn’t it?

_Oh, of course you don’t, Johnny. I’m talking about when you right wake up, with the bedhead and the sleepy look in your eyes. Bet you don’t wear anything but Boxers to bed –JM._

John once more stared at his phone.

_How did he know?_

Emergency text to Sherlock.

_HE KNOWS WHAT I WEAR TO BED AT NIGHT HELP!_

The following text didn’t help.

_John, I think it is so blatantly obvious what you wear to bed at night, even Anderson would be able to deduce it. –SH_

_HOW IS IT OBVIOUS?! It’s what I wear to sleep! I wouldn’t be able to tell what Xanna or you or Jim wear to bed!_

_Xanna would be difficult because it all depends on how hot the bed is when she goes to sleep in it. Or if she just doesn’t feel like wearing clothes. Those nights are awkward, to say the least. Jim doesn’t believe in wearing clothes to bed, unless he’s in a drum corps setting. And even then, he’ll sleep naked. As for me, I sleep in my Boxers, the same as you. Except mine are silk, because I despise the feel of cotton. –SH._

_TMI SHERLOCK! THAT WAS NOT AN INVINTATION._

_My apologies. Xanna texts me that all the time. Play stupid. Shouldn’t be hard for an idiot. –SH_

_And don’t take that personally, because practically everyone’s an idiot. –SH_

John heaved a sigh and brought Jim’s message up again.

_I may or may not. Why, what does it matter to you?_

_Oh, Johnny. Such a coy young man, aren’t you? I might have to kiss the shyness out of you. –JM_

John bit his lower lip. There was something about the way that phrase was said that spoke to his anatomy.

_You want to kiss me?_

_Of course, Johnny. Those lips look so soft, and you look so cute when you lick or bite them. I’d like to bite that lower lip myself. –JM_

Oh God. Jim knew his weak spots, and they’ve met all of four times. Dammit. Playing dumb was going to be hard when he had a stiffy.

He scowled at his cock. “You behave.”

As if it was going to listen. He was 21 years old, like his cock was going to listen to him. No, it wanted more of what Jim was saying.

And, to be honest, John wanted to hear more himself.

_You do?_

_Oh, yes, Johnny. I’d like to make it bruise with teeth and tongue. The same with that strong neck of yours. Especially that tendon where your neck meets your shoulder. –JM_

Fuck. Jim REALLY knew his turn on spots.

_Why?_

_Because you’re so INTERESTING, Johnny!! Not very many people catch the eye of Sherlock Holmes. Xanna, yes, but that’s because sweet little Xan is interested in EVERYBODY. She likes to get into people’s business to help them. Such a sweet little girl. But Sherlock? Hardly anyone catches his eye in the way that you do. I want to know the man who makes Sherlock Holmes think he has a puzzle to solve. –JM_

John blinked.  

_Holy shit. Holy fucking shit._

He forwarded the message to Sherlock, the follow up text saying _What the actual bloody fuck do I do?!_

Noticing that his tea had gone cold, he popped it into the microwave to warm it back up. His tea was really expensive, he didn’t like wasting it.

_Interesting. –SH_

_WHAT DO YOU MEAN INTERESTING?!_

The microwave beeped, and he grabbed his rewarmed tea out of it and began sipping it. Ah, yes. Tea did make everything better.

_What I mean is the fact that he thinks I consider you a puzzle. You’re not that much of a puzzle to me, John. Still. We could use this to our advantage. Reply back with “Interesting. Tell me more”. We’ll convene in two hours, at your house. Xanna will have psychology club at that time. I’ll look at the evidence at that time. –SH_

John stared at his phone.

Well, if Sherlock was going to be coming over, he’s going to have to shower. And get rid of this hard on. He scowled at it again.

“Moriarty is an idiotic prick. You should be ashamed of yourself,” he admonished it.

It bobbed happily in his blue Boxers.

Clothes would be a good idea, as well. No need to give Sherlock an eyeful.

His phone buzzed again. Another text from Jim.

_Plus, I’m sure that you would enjoy it. It’d be delicious, you know. The taste of your skin. Feeling you breathe hotly onto my skin. Feeling you WANT me. And I’d let you have me, Johnny. As long as I get to eat you up. –JM_

Oh shit.

That shower was going to be cold.

He sent off a text to Jim.

_Mmm. . . That actually does appeal to me. But I need to shower and get ready for my day. Thanks for the imagery, though._

He was naked, the shower running ice cold, when Jim texted back.

_Of course, Johnny boy. Have a good day, we’ll talk later :* -JM_

John stepped into the shower, shivering. Not from the cold of the shower though. From the heat of Jim’s words.

And when he couldn’t stop thinking about it, he took matters into his own hands.

When Sherlock arrived, John was dressed in sweats and a sweatshirt advertising the high school football team, with  a clean pair of Boxers and a limp penis, a cup of tea in front of him, his phone lying innocently on the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo!! This was a helluva chapter to write. I was panicking last night because OMG THE FANS and this chapter was becoming more difficult. 
> 
> And I started wondering if I made Moriarty too gay. Oh well. Suck it up. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are shiny! Thank you to all who have commented and left kudos :)


	8. Planning With Sherlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock discuss what to do about Jim texting-and hitting on- John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know someone had asked why Sherlock was so polite and nice and all. So, here's a chapter in which Sherlock shows more of his. . . normal personality. 
> 
> I apologize for the shortness of this chapter, but I should make up for it with the next couple of chapters.

 

Sherlock swept into John’s house, immediately going to John’s phone.

“It’s-“

“There’s a passcode, yes, I know. I’ve already cracked it.”

John stared at the man who was holding his phone. He was wearing that dark purple shirt that he had worn last night, and black slacks. John remembered what Sherlock had texted, and drank some tea.

“Something to drink?” he asked.

“Some coffee would be marvelous. Black, two sugars.”

“. . . Right.” John got up and made Sherlock his coffee, also bringing out some bagels with strawberry cream cheese while the latter went through the texting conversation between the former and Moriarty.

“So?” John asked as he set down the bagels, cream cheese, and coffee for Sherlock. He grabbed a bagel and dunked it in the cream cheese.

“Highly erotic text messages, and all he did was talk about kissing and biting you.”

“Yes.”

“Hmph.” Sherlock drank his coffee before going into that strange thinking position that showed he was going into his mind palace- Xanna had explained all of that to him the last time he went over to their apartment for a dance lesson. Sherlock had been writing his paper in his head, and after an hour or two, had gotten up, typed the paper with sources, and slept.

John knew better than to interrupt Sherlock’s thinking, as Xanna said it was impossible, so he ate a couple bagels and checked MSN for news.

“I believe that Jim has selected you as his next person for corruption.”

John looked up from the article that he was reading. “What?”

Sherlock gave him a look.

John looked back in confusion.

Sherlock sighed. “Xanna is so much better at this than I am. Look, every year, Jim takes a rookie or someone who has only marched a year or two and corrupts them. He didn’t corrupt Xanna, because frankly, there’s nothing to corrupt there. This morning was a prime example of this, as she came out of her room naked to go make her morning coffee. I’d ask her to put clothes on, but I know she wouldn’t listen to me.”

John held up a hand. “Too much information, Sherlock. I don’t need to think about Xanna naked.”

Sherlock was now looking at him in confusion. “How is that too much information? It’s not like I gave you her measurements.”

John stared at him. “How do you know her measurements?”

“Well, it’s a matter of deduction, actually. You see-“

“I don’t want to know how you got Xanna’s measurements,” John said firmly.

Sherlock nodded. “For instance, when I was just became a vet, Jim decided to corrupt me. The cocaine, the sex, things like that. He takes the more vulnerable ones. You’re vulnerable because you’re a people pleaser. He probably won’t get you hooked on drugs, but the sex. . . Yes.”

John grimaced. “He does realize that I’m not a virgin, right?”

“John, have you ever engaged in intercourse with another man?”

The question took the smaller man aback, and he stared at Sherlock. “Well, no. . .”

“Hesitation. This implies that you have at least experimented with your bisexuality.”

John hesitated, but nodded. “Two years ago. Mutual jerking off with a mate after football practice,” he confessed. “It’s the only time. I’ve been with women mostly.”

“Have you let any of them penetrate your anal opening?”

John choked on the bagel he had grabbed. A large, pale hand thwacked him hard to dislodge the offending bite.

“Thanks!” John rasped. He took a drink of tea. “And the answer to that is no, Sherlock. Some of these things are private you know.”

Sherlock snorted. “I am merely gathering data to predict what Jim will want to do with you to corrupt you.”

“Right,” John said, taking another drink of his tea. He wondered idly if that whiskey that Harry had gotten him for his birthday was somewhere. . . If she hadn’t drank it already.

“I need more data.”

“Of course you do,” John said sarcastically.

“Saturday, at camp, chat Jim up. Work with him. I’ll tell Xanna an excuse. She probably won’t believe me, but oh well. See how he reacts to you in person. Report to me after lights out.”

John could feel a spike of adrenaline. “Alright.”

“Keep playing dumb like that when he texts you. He really likes that you’re naïve about this sort of thing.”

“I got that much, funnily enough.”

Sherlock gave a ghost of a smile. “You’re pretty smart, John. I’m sure you’ll keep him on your toes.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“Of course John. Xanna wants to get you together with on Wednesday to go over dance. Does that work?”

John nodded. “She knows Wednesdays are good for me.”

“I shall inform her.” Sherlock got up. “Thank you for the coffee.”

“You’re welcome. Thanks for the advice.”

“Of course John.” That ghost of a smile was back, and then, as quickly as he came out, he was gone.

John blinked.

Well, that was interesting. He cleaned the dishes and finished his bagel before going to his room with his phone in hand.

And when he went to bed that night, he had to take matters into his own hands again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are always Shiny!!


	9. Xanna Is Crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Friday night of the new camp weekend, and John learns that Xanna may not always be as calm and composed as she normally is. 
> 
> In fact, driving with her is very scary.

The week leading up to camp was a blur for John. Between school, practicing, and Harry, it was difficult for John to find sometime for himself.

But he always managed to.

Jim would text all sorts of naughty ideas, ideas that had John swell in his pants angrily until he went into the bathroom or his bedroom to have a wank or two. Jim didn’t even need to mention his cock, and John was glad that he didn’t, or otherwise nothing would get done. All the texts thus far were about kissing and biting, and one memorable 3 text long message about John’s nipples. He had never considered how sensitive they were until Jim.

Xanna guessed that Jim and John were talking, and she would warn him constantly about how dangerous he was, and to please be careful.

“I know I’m not your mom, aunt, or even a true authority figure,” she had said on Wednesday during their dance lesson, while Sherlock was busy at the lab. “But I do know what kind of sick bastard he is, and I want to look out for you. If you need to talk, I am here. If you want to know more, I am here.”

Sherlock was also kept in the loop, more so than Xanna. If there was something that Jim had said that John wasn’t sure how to interpret, a quick text to Sherlock would put him back on track.

Friday night, Sherlock and Xanna swung by to pick John up for camp, and he bounded eagerly into the car.

Xanna was driving, and it was soon evident why Sherlock drove more often.

“You’re going to hit that tree!”John called when they were about half way there. John could see his body plastered to the side of the road. . .

Xanna grinned and swerved, missing tree and fence, before speeding down the highway. AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” was blaring, and even Sherlock was holding onto the handle above the door with a white knuckled grip.

“Alexandria Davidson, you are not a NASCAR driver!” Sherlock shouted as they flew over a speed bump.

“That ain’t drivin’. THIS is drivin’!”

“YOU’RE INSANE!!” John gasped.

“Hi, I’m Alexandria “Xanna” Davidson, I am a psychology major up at the college and I like guns, long walks on the beach, frisky men, sexual innuendos and Fireball. For more inquiries on my mental state, dial 1-800-ORI-DGAF!”

“DOG!”

She slammed on the brakes before the red stoplight, and the three of them breathed as an older woman walked across the street with a little toy American Eskimo.

Once the light was green, however, they sped off again.

This meant, of course, that they were one of the first one’s at camp, and for once, John experienced calm driving by Xanna.

“I’m going to get food after we unload,” Sherlock announced as they unbuckled.

“Sounds good to me,” Xanna agreed. “My usual.”

He snorted. “I’m not going to McDonald’s, Xanna. I’m going to Burger King.”

“What’s my usual at Burger King?”

Sherlock sighed. “Three Whoppers with cheese and a large fry. And sweet tea.”

“Good boy!”

Sherlock sighed again and looked at John. “What do you want?”

“Umm. . . I’ll take a Whopper with cheese meal. And I’ll have unsweetened tea for my drink.”

The face that Xanna made at the sound of “unsweetened tea” was priceless.

Sherlock took the car and left, and John chatted with a few of the other members who had shown up early while Xanna unloaded the guard equipment and placed it in the gym.

After that, most of Friday night was a blur. John remembered eating, stretching, and all of Friday being a dance class, where Sherlock helped him to correct his posture on sashays, and Xanna helped him feel the difference between a sickled foot and a true pointed foot.

When snack came, he grabbed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and chatted with Xanna and Sherlock, who both said that they were proud of the improvements that he had made over the past month. Well, Sherlock hinted at it. Xanna was gushing on how he was such a quick learner.

They got their sleep stuff out and set everything up. John lounged in his sleeping bag, texting Jim.

_Hey, how was your day?_

_Boring. I nearly got kicked out of my calc 3 class for correcting the teacher when they made a really big mistake in teaching us. So tedious. How about you? –JM_

_It was good. Dance class at camp. Feeling a little sore._

_Mmm, bet you were sweating, too. –JM_

_Yeah, I was, a little._

_Mmm. I’d love to be able to lick up that sweat from your neck, inhale it. You’d have such a lovely smell to you when you’d sweat. –JM_

_Sweat is arousing?_

_Of course, Johnny. It shows you’re working hard. Plus there’s something to be said about seeing that light sheen of sweat over muscles. –JM_

John pictured it, and he bit his lip to stifle back a moan.

_I can see how that’s hot._

_Of course you can, Johnny. And I intend to do it to you this summer. –JM._

Not getting hard at camp was going to be harder than it looked, it seemed.

Sherlock came back in, smelling like cigarette smoke and rain, and looked down at John. “He’s texting you.”

“Yes,” John replied. “How could you tell?”

“Your pupils are dilated, and I can see your pulse has risen in your neck. You’ve been calm since we did our post rehearsal stretch, so it’s arousal,” Sherlock stated.

“Fantastic.”

Sherlock looked a little taken back. “You mean it?”

“Absolutely. It’s rather extraordinary when you do it.”

“That’s not what people normally say.”

“What do people normally say?”

“’Piss of’”

The two of them looked at each other before laughing.

“What’s he texting you?”

“The way sweat looks on muscles, and he wants to lick it off of me.”

Sherlock looked bewildered. “Why is that arousing?”

“Look at some porn.”

“It’s transport, why would I do something to harm transport?”

John raised an eyebrow. “You’ll learn things.”

The call for lights out came, and the gym was pooled into darkness.

Twenty minutes later, the entire drum corps was still up, talking and laughing loudly.   

John wanted them all to be quiet so he could go to sleep. His head was starting to hurt.

“BAKER STREET! IT IS NOW 1:21 AM. LIGHTS OUT WAS 21 MINUTES AGO. RIGHT NOW, EVERY MINUTE I HEAR LOUD TALKING OR LAUGHTER, IS A MINUTE THAT WE RUN TO A DOCTOR BEAT IN PT TOMORROW MORNING!!!” Xanna shouted. “WE HAVE LIGHTS OUT FOR A REASON. SOME PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO SLEEP AND ARE TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO PUT LIVE SNAKES IN YOUR SLEEP STUFF. PLEASE RESPECT YOUR NEIGHBORS AND THE PEOPLE YOU MARCH WITH. I DON’T CARE THAT YOU’RE TALKING, BUT THERE’S THIS WONDERFUL INVENTION KNOWN AS WHISPERING. AND FOR A SUPPOSEDLY SLEEPY DRUM CORPS, I SEE A LOT OF PHONES OUT. NOW PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP!!”

The whole drum corps was silent after Xanna finished yelling, and John could see her silhouette in the doorway of the gym. Apparently, she was coming back from the bathroom or something.

Someone raised their hand and Xanna sighed before asking them to speak up.

“Could we read until we fall asleep? I have homework due on Monday and I have the book on my Kindle.”

“Yes, you may read, although you should probably plan that sort of thing better,” Xanna said, sounding out of breath. “My point is, I was in the bathroom, and I could hear you. I appreciate those of you trying to fall asleep or being quiet. I don’t want to get in trouble by the staff because we were way loud past lights out.”

The drum corps remained silent as Xanna went to go to sleep. There were a few whispers, but it was still quiet.

John sighed with relief, curled up in his sleeping bag, and saw he had a text from Jim.

_Good night, Johnny. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow ;) –JM._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are always Shiny!!


	10. Spinning with Jim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doing camp with Jim was a whole new experience. John starts flirting back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1: de Quervain's tenosynovitis is a real thing. It sucks. 
> 
> 2: I have no clue if the trick that Xanna and Jim do is a real thing, but I'd like to try it! (If I could toss a 7)
> 
> 3: I would like to thank a friend of mine who is not here on AO3, Bootstrap, for allowing me to use him as a sounding board. Because of him, this fic is probably going to be a bit darker. And because of him, Johniarty's happening.

“ _Carry on my wayward son_

_There’ll be peace when you’re done_

_Lay your weary head to rest_

_Don’t you cry no more.”_

John woke up to the semi-unfamiliar sound of Kansas. He rarely heard this song, unless he was watching _Supernatural._ He hummed along with the song as he woke up more and started getting his sleep stuff together.

“Good morning, Baker Street!” The drum major, James Seymour, was here this weekend. “The time is now 7:15, you have 15 minutes to get your sleep stuff out and be back in here for PT.”

John did just that, using the loo and filled up his gallon water jug that Xanna gave him- “I have, like, four.”- and went to sit down with Sherlock and Xanna. Xanna gave a tired wave, while Sherlock gave a nod of acknowledgement.

“Sleep well?” he asked.

“I don’t sleep very often,” Sherlock stated.

John stared at him.

“Night owl,” Xanna muttered, rubbing her temples. “Got to sleep around four, I think.”

John shook his head. “Why don’t either of you sleep when normal people do?” he asked

“Normal is relative,” Xanna groaned. “My Circadian rhythm has been fucked up since day one. For me, it’s normal to want to be awake from 1 PM to about 3 AM. On tour, I can fall asleep faster and earlier, but that’s because we’re on a bus most of the time.”

“Sleep is boring,” Sherlock added. “I spent the night reorganizing my mind palace.”

“Thought you did that two days ago,” Xanna grumbled.

“That was cleaning it. A few things got jumbled, so last night was spent putting those things where they go.”

John shook his head and then PT started. They did some quick stretches before going and running around the gym to music for about ten minutes. Another quick stretch, and they were ushered into the cafeteria for French toast sticks, which Xanna got really excited for.

Saturday morning block was dance class again, as well as some flag basics.

Around lunch, Jim arrived.

John saw him spit his gum into the garbage before wandering in, a cup of blue Gatorade in hand. Upon seeing John with his cold cuts, he smiled and made his way over.

“Hey, Jim,” John said with a smile.

“Hi, Johnny, how are you?” Jim asked, sliding down across from him.

“Pretty good, what about you?”

“Just got in. Hate having a night class on Fridays, it’s why I don’t come.”

John nodded.

“Did we learn any choreography yet?”

John shook his head. “No, we just went over flag basics this morning. Rifle try outs are tonight, with Anderson.”

“Are you going to try out?”

John shrugged. “I might. I feel more comfortable on saber, though.”

“I know what you mean, Johnny.”

Sherlock sat down next to John, a cup of purple Gatorade. “Hello, Jim.”

“Hello, Sherlock.”

The two men stared at each other, as though having a silent conversation, before Jim smirked and turned his attention back to John. At some point, Xanna had come and sat down next to Jim, and began eating.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Jim asked.

“My thumb,” she whispered. “It’s been hurting a lot lately.”

“Ahh, you poor thing,” Jim said, rubbing her back. “Is it out of place?”

She nodded.

“Let me see,” John said.

She reluctantly withdrew her hand and laid it upon the table.

John examined the thumb. It was swollen and the knuckle was out of place. He cracked it back into place, causing her to gasp in surprise.

“Bad?” he asked.

She shook her head. “It feels better. It just normally hurts when it’s popped back in.”

“Have you seen a doctor?”

She nodded. “He said it’s De Quervain’s tenosynovitis.”

John frowned.

“It’s basically a fancy way of saying ‘tendonitis located in the thumb’,” she explained.

He nodded. “Ice that.”

“And wear your gloves,” Sherlock added.

The rest of rehearsal went by, as they learned the flag work to the flag feature in the second song of the show (“Don’t memorize your ripple counts, they’ll change once we get drill”) up until dinner, and then after dinner was rifle try outs.

“Rifles, over here!” Anderson called, and the four, plus five others, came over. “Vets up front, rookies in the back.”

John placed himself in the back as Sherlock, Xanna, and Jim took the front. He lined himself up with Jim, who turned back and winked at him when Anderson was looking away.

Basics for the first hour, and then Anderson let them get a drink. A few people ran to grab their jugs while the smarter people had their jugs already there.

John drank and he caught Jim staring at him a little hungrily. Feeling bold, John allowed some water to escape his lips and he licked it up.

The visible shudder that Jim gave made John smirk.

Xanna was already out by her rifle, practicing toss turn arounds. They looked really scary to him.

“Sherlock. Xanna. I want you to try the trust fall trick we came up with last season,” Anderson said. He looked around. “Where’s Sherlock?”

“Smoke break,” Xanna supplied, tossing a six and turning twice before catching it straight up and down.

“Jim, then.”

“Of course, Philip,” Jim said smoothly. He got behind Xanna.

“What did you want me to toss?” Xanna asked.

“Try a five.”

Xanna did some double time into a prep, then tossed her five. As it was in the air, she did a trust fall into Jim’s arms, and then caught it once he brought her back up.

Everyone clapped and she gave a laugh as well.

“It felt awkward with the five,” Xanna noted, cracking her wrist. Jim nodded in agreement.

“Try a seven then.”

Xanna grimaced and did the same thing. Double time, prep, seven. This time it did look more natural. And impressive.

“That’ll probably be in the show,” Anderson said. “Alright, let’s do some choreo.”

Choreography in the rifle world, John learned, was exceedingly different than flag.

By the time snack came around, John’s arms and thighs were covered in bruises, and he was developing a nice one on his jaw from where his rifle smacked it.

“You get used to it,” Xanna said, looking everything over. She was also covered in bruises and sweat, as was Sherlock and Jim.

The two men agreed with her, and John noticed that Jim was breathing just a tad faster.

 _Sweat,_ John thought and he gave a small smirk.

He ate, showered, and was in a secluded part of the hallway on the phone with his mom when Jim came and saw him. He smiled and waved to Jim, who leaned up against the wall and waited until John was finished.

“Hey there, Johnny. Rifle didn’t beat you up too bad, did it?” he simpered.

John shook his head. “Nah. No pain, no gain. I think that’s what Xanna said.”

Jim chuckled. “She’s right about that.” He stroked the forming bruise on John’s jaw, bringing the rookie’s eyes up to the vet’s.

The kiss happened rather suddenly, but instead of getting heat and passion, the kiss was warm and gentle, closed mouthed.

John stood there in shock for a split second and then attempted to deepen the kiss, giving a soft sigh.

Jim pulled away with a mischievous smirk after letting John deepen it a little. John gave a soft whine and frowned.

“If you want more, Johnny, you’re going to have to wait,” he whispered softly. “Too many people are here. You’re free Tuesday nights, right?”

John breathed and nodded. “Yeah. After 7.”

Jim smiled. “I’ll pick you up. We’ll work a little bit more on your presence when dancing. And there’ll be more kissing.”

“Okay,” John found himself agreeing.

Jim gave a smirk and kissed John again before sauntering off.

When John cared to look around, he found Sherlock Holmes standing there in shock. It didn’t take much deduction to learn that he had watched the whole thing.

“Sher-“

Sherlock raised a hand, cutting John off. “I’m not going to pull a Xanna on you and tell you that you shouldn’t have done that. I’m not even going to warn you to be careful,” he said quietly. “I do care about you, John, so the only thing I’m going to ask you is this: please let me know if he starts to scare you, or if you feel unsafe. Will you do that for me?”

John nodded. “Of course, Sherlock. You’re a friend, I wouldn’t keep something like that from you.”

Sherlock nodded, then gave a shy smile. “He IS a good kisser, isn’t he?”

John blushed. “Yeah, he is.”

“Let’s get in before lights out, or else Xanna will be pissed.”

They entered the gym and went to their sleep stuff. John picked up his phone and saw that Jim had texted.

_Damn. Your lips are so soft, Johnny. I want to keep kissing them. And you liked it too. I love it when other people take initiative like that. That cute little whine you did when I pulled away made me think sinful thoughts. Sweet dreams, Johnny. –JM_

John smiled and gave a little sigh.

_Sweet dreams, Jim._

As he laid in his sleeping bag, he thought about that kiss. It couldn’t have been more than 10 seconds, but that was the most intense 10 seconds of kissing he’s ever had. With a guy at least.

He’s kissed guys before, stolen little kisses before practice, dares at sleepovers, moments of boldness when drunk. But they were quick little things, barely a brush against lips.

This kiss was different. It was longer than the others, there was warmth, there was a connection.

He fell asleep with a smile on his face and the memory of Jim Moriarty’s lips on his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This kiss was surprisingly fun to write!! Don't hate me for the Johniarty, but it actually fits with what I have planned!!
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always shiny!!


	11. Another Camp Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camp goes on as normal, but John can't help thinking about Jim

“ _One day more_

_Another day, another destiny_

_This never ending road to Calvary_

_These men who seem to know my crime_

_Will surely come a second time.”_

It took John a moment to place the song from _Les Miserables,_ but when he did, it was because those awake enough were singing along with it.

“Is this the tenth anniversary cast, Xanna?” Sherlock called. Xanna grinned and nodded.

“Good morning, Baker Street! It is now 7:30. You have 15 minutes to get your stuff from the gym and be back in here for PT!” James called.

John took his sleep stuff and set it outside, went to the bathroom, and rejoined everyone in the gym.

Somehow, in the slow moving business of everything, Jim managed to find him. The slightly taller man smiled, murmured good morning, and brushed his lips against John’s forehead before heading out of the gym. Smiling, John came over to sit by Sherlock and Xanna, who was busy engaged in rock paper scissors.

“Dammit!” Xanna said as she lost.

“Stop flicking your thumb when you go to do paper, then!” Sherlock taunted back.

“What are you guys doing?” John asked curiously.

“We were doing rock, paper, scissors to see who was driving you home. Sherlock won.”

John smiled. “No offense, Xanna, but you driving is downright scary.”

She grinned. “Why do you think Sherlock drives most of the time? I scare everyone when I drive.”

“Oh, but Xanna, you’re so good at it!” Jim said, appearing out of nowhere.

Xanna laughed. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I swear you got a death wish, Jim.”

“I’m offended, Xanna, after all we’ve been through.”

The girl’s eyes narrowed slightly, but perked up. “Yeah, yeah. Get me a coffee.”

Unfortunately, PT had started before Xanna could get her coffee. Breakfast (egg, ham, and cheese burritos) found her nursing a cup while Sherlock peered at it suspiciously.

“That is not coffee.”

“Yes, it is.”

“You ruined it.”

“You can’t ruin coffee. We’re making a Dunkin’ stop on the way home, though.”

“What is in it?” John asked around a mouthful of food.

“Two things of that international delight creamer, the French vanilla flavor. God, I can drink that stuff straight. And about. . . 6 packs of sugar.”

“Would you like some sugar with your coffee?” Jim asked, swinging his legs over and sitting down next to John.

Xanna raised a brow but didn’t say anything. “I like my sugared coffee, thank you. I don’t have to do this as much with an iced coffee from Dunkin’, though. Especially their dark roast. Mmm, I could live off of that stuff.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I could use a cup of their coffee myself. And a pack of cigarettes.”

Jim shoved a pack of Benson & Hedges across the table. Sherlock looked stunned for a moment. “Thank you, Jim.”

“Of course, Sherlock.”

“Stop encouraging him,” Xanna groaned. “I have to live with the smell of it in my flat.”

“Your parents are smokers, and yet you’re concerned about me?” Sherlock asked.

“I haven’t lived with my father since I was five, and his smoking habit is considerably better than his drinking habit. My mom. . . well, people are alive today because she smokes. Myself included.”

“Have you tried it?” John asked curiously.

“I tried Mom’s Virginia Slims once. Hated it. Used a vape for a cosplay last year. That was alright,” she said, shrugging. “My caffeine addiction is enough.”

After breakfast, they went over the choreo that they had worked on and then performed it for a crowd.

Then there was the corps meeting, and the guard meeting.

“Great job this rehearsal, bitches,” Xanna said. “I am so excited to age out with you guys, and I hope that you are excited for this season as well. Keep practicing. Next camp’s the Valentine’s Day camp, so please on Saturday wear your pinks and reds and hearts. Sherlock?”

Sherlock shrugged, looking bored. “Practice.”

Xanna nodded, looking over at Jim. “Jim?”

“I got nothing to say, darlin’. Just be ready for next camp.”

“Alright. If you’re checking out equipment, see me. Otherwise, please clean the gym.”

John stayed behind to check out equipment again, and Xanna smiled. “All three?”

“Yeah.”

“Awesome.” She made a note of it on her phone. “Wednesday?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Alright. Send me a video the night before so I know what to do.”

“Okay,” he said.

She smiled. “Take care, John.”

“You too, Xanna.”

Jim was getting ready to leave as the gym was now cleaned. “I’ll see you Tuesday, yes?” Jim asked John as John went to go collect his rifle.

“Yeah. Do you need my address?”

“Not at all, Johnny. I’ve already got it.” Looking over his shoulder to see Xanna walking out of the gym, Jim leaned down and gave John another kiss, much like the two the night before. “See you then.”

John could just nod in agreement, and Jim chuckled before taking off.

Sherlock swooped in a few moments later as John practiced some double time. “Ready to go?” he asked.

“Yeah, one moment,” John said, going into a prep and tossing a five and catching it at port.

“Just a tad underrotated,” Sherlock stated as John made his way over. “Still nice, though. Work on your pitch, or else you’re going to smack your face with it.”

John laughed and pointed to his chin. “Already did that.”

Sherlock smirked.

The car ride home was spent in silence. “Wednesday works?”

John nodded. “Yeah, already talked to Xanna.”

“Good.” Sherlock pulled into the driveway. “I’ll see you then. Text me if you need anything.”

“Will do, Sherlock.”

John got his stuff out and went into the house. His mom fretted about the nice bruise that was on his jaw, but he laughed and said it was an occupational hazard, he put some ice on it last night and it feels better. She had him take a Tylenol and he went upstairs to do his homework.

Pulling out his phone, he noticed that he had a text from Jim.

_Can’t wait for Tuesday, Johnny. –JM_

John smiled.

_Neither can I._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I refer to the 10th Anniversary Dream Cast of Les Miserables's "One Day More" because it's honestly my favorite cast (besides the newest movie version). I love Colm Wilkinson, Philip Quast, Michael Maguire, and Lea Salonga. Oh and Michael Ball. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always shiny!!


	12. Dancing with Jim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John goes over to Jim's for a dance lesson. . . And things get hot.

Tuesday came a lot slower than normal for John Watson. Steamy texts from Jim weren’t helping matters either.

He finished up his anatomy class at 6:30 and made it home by 6:45. His mom wasn’t home, but Harry was, sober for once.

“Hey, Johnny, what’s up?” she asked.

“Going to a friend’s house to work on some dance,” he said, taking off his sweater.

“Do you know when you’ll be home?” she asked, not caring that her little brother was stripping in front of her. Frankly, John didn’t care either. Modesty between the Watson siblings was long gone, ever since Harry started stealing his clothes. 

“Nope,” he said, sliding on shorts and a pair of sweats before throwing on a sweatshirt. “He’ll be here around 7.”

“He? Is it Xanna’s roommate?” she asked, her interest piquing.

“Nah, it’s a friend of theirs, who also marches. His name is Jim.”

“Jim. Jimmy.” Harry giggled.

“Not funny,” he said, running a comb through his hair.

His phone buzzed. He grabbed it out of his jeans pocket.

_Waiting outside, Johnny. –JM_

It was 6:59.

“Close enough to 7. Let Mom know I’m at Jim’s,” he said, kissing his sister’s cheek.

“Have fun, Johnny!!” she called as he ran out to Jim’s car.

“You have a _Mustang_?” John asked incredulously.

“Who’s that?” Jim asked, pointing at Harry waving good-bye merrily in the doorway.

“My lesbian alcoholic sister,” John said, waving bye to her before turning and looking at Jim.

“I see. Has she always called you ‘Johnny’?” He started driving away from the Watson home.

“Only when she’s happy with me. Or she wants something from me. Or when she’s sorry. She calls me ‘John’ when she’s not too happy with me. Like the time I put itching powder in her socks.”

Jim chuckled quietly. “Sibling rivalry, much?”

“She stole my favorite sweater and ruined it,” John defended. “She got acid on it in chemistry.”

“How old were you?”

“Hmmm. . . Harry’s 3 years older than I am, so fourteen.”

Jim smiled “Such a young thing. Has she always stolen your clothes?”

“Ever since I turned 12. Drove me crazy. I’d get up to get dressed- she always got up earlier than me- go to put on a shirt, or a sweater, or a pair of jeans, and the one I’m looking for isn’t there, and so I’d choose something different, or go to her room and ask for it. This led to more than one nearly nude chase around the house.”

Jim laughed and John chuckled with him. “It sounds really bad, but when you’re looking for a sweater in the middle of January, and you’re trying to get it back, all forms of modesty go out the window. I eventually learned how to steal my clothes back while she was in the shower. She eventually learned how to ask to borrow an item. Especially after the itching powder incident.”

“I’m sure of it,” Jim said. He pulled up to his apartment complex, which was a good deal fancier than Sherlock and Xanna’s.

“Wow!”

Jim chuckled. “I can afford to not live in the student apartments. I don’t know how Sherlock and Xanna can stand to live there.”

“I think Xanna said something about earplugs, loud music, and a sound machine. Plus her apartment’s noisy too, with Sherlock doing experiments when he’s bored. I once found a note that told Sherlock to remove the eyeballs from the ice tray, or she was going to put electrodes on him and run anxiety tests on him like a lab rat.”

Jim threw his head back and laughed. “Knowing Xanna, she’d probably do it too,” he said.

John agreed with a nod.

Jim lived on the fifth floor, also referring to the Oriental superstition of the number four. John just shook his head and entered the flat.

It was neat and tidy, but. . . opulent. He was proud that he could think of a word. It was covered in dark oak, silk, satin, and other fabrics he couldn’t begin to name.

“Like it?” Jim asked. “Xanna comes over once a week for this room. Mainly because of that,” he said, pointing to the ballet barre made into the wall.

“That’s beautiful,” John whispered. “This whole place is beautiful. Oh! Xanna wants me to video what I go over, I’m seeing her tomorrow.”

“Not a problem, I can film you,” Jim said. “Let me go change, alright?” the man was wearing a 3 piece suit, and damn, if John thought that suits were hot before, he thought they were smoking now.

“Yeah, sure,” John said.

Jim smirked and leaned down, kissing John with one of those 10 second kisses. “It’s a Westwood, I don’t want to wrinkle it while we’re dancing,” he whispered.

John’s knees buckled. “Go change,” he said softly.

Jim chuckled and went into his room. John remained in the living room, stretching a little bit to warm up.

Jim came back out in shorts and a tank. “You’re going to want to take the sweats off,” he said. “This flat gets warm.”

John shed his sweats and smiled at the way Jim’s face flushed.

“Have you ever used a barre before?” Jim asked.

John shook his head.

“You’re in for a treat,” Jim said, leading him over to it. He showed John how to hold the barre properly, his hand resting on John’s wrist. “You don’t want a death grip. Nice and relaxed.”

John nodded.

“We need to work on your posture,” Jim frowned. He tilted John’s head up. “Press boxes are up high.” The fingers caressed his throat, and John shivered.

“Shoulders back, but relaxed. Long neck. You’re a swan, embrace it.”

John tried to roll his shoulders back and down, but it was difficult.

“Relax, you’re too tense,” Jim murmured gently, rubbing John’s shoulders lightly. “You’re like the strings on a violin, really.”

John shivered at the light touches rubbing soothing circles on his back. “Can’t help it. Football does that to me.”

“Ahh, yes, athletics. But good posture is important, Johnny.” Jim pressed his shoulders down and back, placing a gentle kiss at the base of John’s neck. A lot of tension went away, and John visibly relaxed. “There we go,” Jim muttered. “Stay like that, Johnny, so much better already. Tuck your hips in, don’t need to show off.”

John blushed at the implication, but rolled his hips under. “Hips in line with your shoulders, butt under, too.” Jim gave a small slap to an arsecheek, and John jumped. Jim chuckled throatily. “Don’t need to show off that either,” the other man teased, and the tanned youth blushed.

“You’re so cute when you blush,” Jim whispered. “Makes you look oh so innocent.”

John blushed even more, trying to duck his head down.

“Nu uh uh uh,” Jim cooed, tilting his head up again. “That won’t do, Johnny.”

It felt so good to have Jim’s hands on him, even if it was just to correct his normal every day posture. John let him tilt his head up again.

“Put your hands in fifth position,” Jim gently instructed, and John did as he was told. Another gentle kiss was placed at the base of his neck, and he shivered. “Relax, Johnny. So tense, all the time. Like a bobcat ready to spring.” Small, lithe hands pressed down on John’s shoulders gently. “Your shoulders don’t want to be by your ears. Relaxed and poised, all the time. We should make this look easy.”   

Jim then went to work on rounding John’s arms and fingers. “Finger tips higher than wrist, wrist higher than elbow, elbow higher than shoulder. The reverse happens for preparation.”

Jim took a step back to admire John’s posture and fifth position. “Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful,” Jim whispered. “Go up into releve.”

John did so, feeling his toes dig into the hardwood floor. He felt beautifully stretched.

“Now come down, but retain the height.”

John frowned. How were you supposed to do that?

“Imagine a string that’s attached at the base of your skull and it’s pulling you up. Now slowly lower back into the ground. That string is taut, it’s going to keep you up,” Jim said smoothly, sensing John’s dilemma. John did so and he managed to keep that beautifully stretched position. “Gorgeous,” the thinner man uttered, staring at the tanned form of John Watson.

John flushed pink again, but he didn’t dare tuck his head in embarrassment.

“You can relax,” Jim said and John did so, several spots along his spine snapping. He gasped and Jim laughed.

“Yeah, you’ll get used to it,” Jim said sympathetically. “It took Xanna a while to get used to it too. We used to have a different guard instructor, and he made basically every well-endowed girl wear more than one sports bra. Poor Xan was wearing 3 by the time he left. It’s caused hell on her back and posture, her shoulders just don’t roll the right way.”

“That’s really bad for you,” John frowned.

“It is. Xanna did it, though. She blames it for her back giving out two seasons ago. That was a nightmare.”

John nodded, noticing how his back felt straighter, and there wasn’t as much tension. “Thanks, Jim.”

“No problem, Johnny,” he replied, a small smile laying about his face. He closed the space between the two of them and before John could react, they were kissing.

It was full of heat and passion, and John wrapped his arms around Jim’s shoulders to crush him to him, while Jim’s arms wrapped around John’s waist. Closed mouth at first, it wasn’t long until Jim’s tongue was licking at John’s lips, begging for entrance, and John gave it to him with great enthusiasm, opening his mouth with a sigh.

They stumbled over to Jim’s couch, where the more compact youth was laid down with the thinner one on top of him, still kissing. John’s hands were now on Jim’s waist, while Jim’s fingers glided through John’s hair. Their legs entertwined, pinning them there as they kissed.

Jim began to nibble on John’s lower lip and John gave a shuddering groan, gripping Jim tighter, promising bruises in the morning.

This was nothing like kissing a girl, where John by this time would’ve migrated down her neck and to her breasts; with their soft feminine lips and soft sighs and moans. No, this was solid and definitely masculine, with John’s stubble scraping Jim’s cheeks and chin and a firm, unyielding chest against his own, and groans that were definitely the opposite of soft.

Jim began sucking that lower lip into his sinful mouth, and John arched into the touch, groaning with delight. Jim’s ministrations also proved to bruise by morning, and John found himself not caring.

Jim pulled away and looked down at John, who looked utterly destroyed with swollen red lips, the lower one starting to bruise in the middle, flushed skin and the black pupil almost swallowing the ocean blue. His blonde hair looking like he just got off the football field and taken his helmet off.

“Jesus, Johnny,” Jim whispered. “That’s beautiful.”

John looked up at Jim, who’s normally pale skin was now colored pink, swollen lips, and his normally in place black hair now disheveled. “You’re pretty good looking yourself,” he whispered.

Jim grinned wolfishly before leaning down and capturing that tendon between John’s neck and shoulder with his teeth, causing John to cry out in pleasure, his eyes wide and fingers bruising Jim’s hips even more.

 _Quid pro quo_ was John’s really last coherent thought before leaning up and capturing that same tendon on Jim, causing the other man to groan and suck at the captured skin harder.

John had no clue how long he laid there, sucking on Jim’s tendon while Jim did the same, but it felt like an eternity before they finally parted, too soon and yet not soon enough. They started sharing slow, lazy kisses, with gentle nips and licks and wet, open mouthed kisses. Kisses also went to their shoulders, kissing the bruised skin.

“Holy shit,” John said softly once he got his bearings back, and Jim chuckled warmly, kissing him again.

“You got that right, Johnny. You’re a damn good kisser. Of course, I figured that,” Jim teased, kissing along his jaw.

“Weren’t we supposed to be practicing?” John asked, tilting his neck.

“Mmm, yes, Xanna would be so disproving right now.”

The two boys giggled like schoolchildren being naughty, and Jim slowly pried himself off of John, holding out his hand for the other boy to sit up.

They did practice for a bit longer, and Jim was able to help disguise the bruising on his shoulder for the video that John sent to Xanna. Practice, of course, was interrupted by sweet little kisses and light teeth scraping across sensitive shoulders.

Jim helped John back into his sweats and hoodie, still sharing soft open kisses, dragging his teeth along that lower lip, before driving him home.

“Thanks, Jim,” John said, trying to reorganize his hair.

“No problem, Johnny. Next week work for you?”

John grinned. “If not sooner.”

Jim laughed. “Don’t let Xanna give you a hard time about your shoulder. I’ll see you soon, Johnny.”

John waved as he went into his house, watching the black Mustang drive off before retreating to his room. Maybe there’ll be some foundation. . .

He’s out of foundation.

_Shit buggering fucking dammit!_

He looked around a little bit more, looking for concealer even, but nothing.

Nothing a hoodie won’t hide.

He laid down on his bed with a smile.

 _That was the best make out session ever,_  he thought before sleep unexpectedly dragged him under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hot scenes like this, where it's all kisses and grabbing and no actual sex! Lots of fun to write!
> 
> Comments and Kudos are shiny!!


	13. Where Xanna Freaks Out and Sherlock Is Calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upon seeing the hickey on John's shoulder, Xanna freaks out and Sherlock takes over. 
> 
> Oh, and Jim asks John out on a date. Squeal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize, I feel like it's been a week since I last updated. Freaking school and all has kept me busy, plus I wasn't sure how to do this chapter. It should pick up now (hopefully). 
> 
> Thank you for the comments, kudos, bookmarks and subscriptions! It makes my day!

The next morning, John woke up, showered, and slid on a hoodie over his normal shirt, effectively covering up the good sized hickey on his shoulder.

Jim, however, sent John a picture of the hickey he had left behind, and John drew in a breath, seeing the beautiful purple bruise that had blossomed on his shoulder.

_Damn, Johnny. Claiming me, were you? –JM_

John smirked, took off his hoodie, and snapped a picture of his own.

_I’d ask the same about you._

_Ooohh, Johnny, that looks delicious. Have fun with Xanna today! –JM_

A few hours later, he found himself in Xanna’s apartment. Sherlock was at his microscope in the kitchen, with Xanna wearing shorts and a tank.

“We have the heater up pretty high, I hate dancing in sweats,” she confessed.

John shrugged.

“Alright, let’s begin,” Xanna said. “Let’s run through plies, arms, and tondus.”

John actually found tondus easier when he stood up straight, and it had Xanna grinning.

“So he is useful for something,” Xanna joked.

“Besides being estrogen driven? Of course, Xan. I’ve been telling you this for years. Besides, you go over to use his barre.”

“Hush, Sherlock.” She smiled. “Jim’s always been a marginally better dancer than I, mainly because of posture.”

John smiled and took off his sweatshirt, forgetting about the hickey until he heard the sole female gasp.

“OMG”

“Xanna, what have we discussed-“

“LOOK AT HIS SHOULDER, YOU IDIOT!”

Sherlock looked up from the microscope and studied John’s shoulder, where the vivid purple bruise was.

“It’s nothing,” John insisted, looking from Sherlock’s quicksilver, studious eyes to Xanna’s blown apart in shock green ones.

“No, no, no, you don’t understand!” She said, pacing now.

“He’s got one too, calm down,” the rookie said.

“HE LET YOU BITE HIM?” The shout was incredulous.

“Well, considering he was biting me at the time, he really couldn’t say anything against it,” John said petulantly.

Xanna drew in a deep breath before Sherlock spoke up.

“Xanna. Go talk to that hunky tuba player you’ve been talking to.”

“Sherlock-“

“GO. You are not mentally equipped to deal with the situation at the present time. He’s online now, and he’s probably sent you a message, detailing a great time at the local casino. Or, rather, what the two of you would think is a great time.”

“But-“

“If you stay in this room forty seconds more, I will burn your paper that you’ve been obsessively editing for the past two days, and erase the entire thing from your hard drive.” Sherlock paused. “I can teach John today. Now, GO.”

Xanna looked like she was going to argue more, thought better of it, and then went into her room and slammed the door. A few moments later, the two men heard the distinct noise of a keyboard being typed on furiously and the ominous sound of the “Imperial March” from _Star Wars_ being played from speakers.

“I-“

“Don’t apologize, John. You are an adult, capable of making your own decisions,” Sherlock said bluntly. “Xanna has the complex of believing everyone needs saving from something, especially where Moriarty is concerned. Especially after my. . . experiences with him. She’s even more on edge since the rape. She’s also a bit jealous.”

“What? Jealous? Of me?”

“More precisely, the fact that you have entered a relationship. The break up with Wesley hit her hard, and as much as she is saying ‘I don’t want a relationship’, she is wanting one at the same time. I’m hoping a few rounds of casual sex will straighten her out, she’s a right fright when she is horny all the time.”

John stared at Sherlock. Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “I am more attuned to the way Xanna’s body reacts than I would care to admit,” he said. “She is a savior for those who want or need saving. And to the rest of us, she’s a pain in the ass.”

John smiled. “Well. . . Thanks, Sherlock.”

“Of course, John. Now, let’s work on your point, your foot is still sickleing.”

They worked for a couple of hours on the various little details that go into it, not bringing up Jim or Xanna.

Sherlock checked on her before coming back out to drive John home. “She’s asleep, thank God,” Sherlock said, starting the car.

“She’s asleep?”

“Mhm. She was running on about 2 hours sleep because of the paper I threatened to destroy.”

John nodded in understanding. “I see.”

“She does that on papers, it’s actually very annoying. I’m usually drugging her in order to get her to sleep.”

“Is that legal?”

“It isn’t. But I still do it. And she allows it. It’s either that, or I deduce her to tears.”

“Drugging does sound like a better alternative, then.”

“Doesn’t it?” Sherlock preened a little bit at the compliment.

Sherlock dropped John off, still not mentioning Moriarty, but John did text his boyfriend? Partner? Kiss buddy? When he got in.

_Home from Sherlock and Xanna’s._

_How’d it go, Johnny? -JM_

_Sherlock had to take over my lesson, Xanna was furious by the hickey._

_Ahh I see. She would be, silly girl. She loves being bitten. –JM_

_She does?_

_Oh, yes, Johnny. Remember, I used to date her. Nice, hard bites to her shoulders, her breasts, her hips, inner thighs, neck. She used to make the loudest moans. And I can sense when she’s been laid, whether or not they bit her. –JM_

_Sherlock suggested she was jealous, since her last relationship is done._

_Oh, yes, her and Wesley. They did make quite the cute couple. Xanna adored Wesley, but once I heard he was enlisting, I knew it wouldn’t last. –JM_

_Did you tell her?_

_No. Sherlock did, but all she did was laugh. Has she gotten any since she called it quits? –JM_

_Not from what Sherlock said._

_She’ll find a couple of lays that’ll make her forget about Wesley. Until then, try to cover up that beautiful bruise? –JM_

John grinned. _I don’t have anything to cover it up with, besides hoodies. And she had the apartment like a sauna today._

_No foundation? -JM_

_I ran out._

_We’ll have to fix that, Johnny. –JM_

_Why cover up something beautiful?_

_Ooohhh Johnny, don’t get me started on how beautiful it is. Dinner tomorrow? –JM_

_What time?_

_Whenever you’re free. I know a wonderful Chinese place. –JM_

_I can be free at 8?_

_Wonderful. I’ll see you then, Johnny. XXX –JM_

_See you tomorrow, Jim. XXX_

_Can’t wait to kiss you again. –JM_

John smiled and put his phone on the charger, showered, and ate. While working on his biology homework, his phone buzzed.

_Hey, it’s me. Christ, I’m sorry about my outburst. It was irrational and childish of me. I apologize profusely. –Xan_

John chuckled. _It’s okay, I understand. If it gets worse, I’ll let you know, okay?_

_I’ll know, John. And thank you for understanding. His bites were always the best ;) –Xan_

_Yeah, he called you a hypocrite for overreacting._

_I haven’t gotten laid since last May. It is now January of the following year. And this girl is about to go crazy! –Xan_

_LOL. Well, get to work on that paper._

_Once I’ve located it. Sherlock hid the paper with my edits on it. –Xan_

John laughed and finished his homework, watched _Supernatural_ , and then went to bed.

The next few weeks were promising to be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are shiny!!!


	14. The Next Few Weeks; Valentine's Day Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next few weeks WERE interesting, and it's February camp. 
> 
> *NOTE* Not all drum corps here in the U.S. have the color guard join the rest of the corps for January, February, March and sometimes April. This is due to the winter guard season. I chose to make Baker Street a drum corps that does to help move the story along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the delay. RL is kicking my ass.

 

The next few weeks WERE interesting.

Tuesdays, John went over to Jim’s to work on his dance form, usually with one or more make out sessions in between. On Wednesdays, he’d go over to Xanna and Sherlock’s, where Xanna would help work on his form and his equipment technique, while Sherlock made observations or worked on something else. Xanna no longer freaked out when she saw John’s latest hickey, and would even laugh and talk about Jim like friends would.

Fridays were date nights with Jim. He’d take him out to dinner, movies, a walk in the park, even a memorable date where they staked out the hotel where Xanna was going to meet up with that “hunky tuba player” that Sherlock had told Xanna to go see when she freaked out the first time. Xanna was furious when she found out, of course, but Sherlock winked at John and waited until they heard loud music (“Heat of the Moment” by Asia) before Sherlock let out a low chuckle.

“She’s embarrassed. And aroused,” Sherlock explained.

John gave him a blank look.

Sherlock sighed. “Embarrassed because you saw her have sex for the first time in way too long. She’s aroused because she has a bit of an exhibitionism kink, and this is only the second time she’s fulfilled that need.”

“Not my fault they didn’t close the blinds,” John said mildly, smiling as he remembered that he and Jim and gone into the backseat to make out and grind on each other, as well as mutual hand jobs. They were able to watch, and when John had seen Xanna the next day, her shoulders and her hips were covered in bite marks and bruises.

John, of course, pressed for details, after he apologized for spying on her date and watching them have sex (although the orgasms he and Jim had from that were amazing).

She revealed them over text.

_It’s a good friend of mine. He marched last year and aged out as well, so he won’t be on tour. It’s one of the last times I’ll see him, he leaves for the Navy in May. He’s also been there for me since I broke up with Wesley. It’s mutual understanding, kind of like an FWB type of thing. I gotta admit, he knows what he’s doing! –Xan_

_Wow! But the bruises. . . ?_

_Oh, the ones on my hips? Doggy got a little rough. . . it’s either that or the shower sex that we had. Damn that was hot. –Xan_

_And your shoulders?_

_I like being bitten, remember? There’s something highly erotic about teeth. You enjoy being bitten too, don’t lie. -Xan_

_Yes, yes I do._

_Is that honestly what date night was for you two –Xan_

_Yeah. Well, that, and dinner. And some grinding. And mutual HJs._

_Sexy. In the car. Watching me get it on. Don’t take this the wrong way, but damn, you’re a kinky bastard, John Watson. –Xan_

_It was pretty hot, tbh._

_Oh, trust me, I know. G2g, my man needs me. Oh, and John? Keep it a secret, please? There could be a scandal if people know, and I need my age out as stress free as possible. –Xan_

_Of course, Xan._

_Xie xie. –Xan_

_?_

_Chinese for ‘thank you’. –Xan_

_Oh. Okay. Thanks._

_No problem. TTYL –Xan_

John smiled and didn’t say a word about Xan’s mystery man, although he could tell when she and him would get together. Mainly ‘cause he’d come over early to talk to Sherlock and she’d come out of her room, barely awake, her make up smeared and her hair disheveled. And at times, a lack of clothing. Or she’d come in the next morning wearing the same dress she’d wear out, and a loopy smile on her face. And John was happy. Sherlock also was happy. And Jim was even happier.

The Valentine’s day camp came around, and the four of them were gathered around the boys’ sleeping stuff, Xanna chugging water Friday night and eating in the gym before lights out.

“So, what’s the latest?” Jim asked, tossing her a bag of chips.

“Seein’ him next weekend. Heading to the casinos. Get to wear cute, fancy dresses and have my brains fucked out of my skull,” Xanna said, tearing open the bag with her teeth.

“Where are you two staying?” John asked around a chocolate chip cookie.

“Over at the hotel he’s stayin’ at,” Xanna shrugged. “Sherlock complained about the noise level the last time.”

“I was working on an experiment that needed quiet, and I did not need to hear you say, ‘Come on, big boy, come fuck me’ among squealing like a stuck pig and cries of orgasm,” Sherlock said, glaring at her.

Xanna waved a hand. “You have noise-cancelling headphones, we got them when we moved in, remember?”

“Yes, but I cannot delete that from my mind palace!” he hissed. Jim laughed and John shook his head.

“So, what about you two lovebirds?” Xanna asked, grabbing a cookie and slathering it with Nutella before shoveling it into her mouth. “You guys done ‘the deed’ yet?”

Jim coughed. John looked sheepish.

“No sex yet? Jesus tap-dancing Christ, Jim, you’ve gone all soft on me,” Xanna teased. Jim shook his head with a smile.

“I’m waiting for the right moment,” he said innocently.

“As long as it’s not here, you know I don’t care,” Xanna said.

“Of course, Xanna. Your sensibilities wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

“Oh, bite me!”

“Careful what you wish for, darlin’,” Jim teased.

“Oh, I’m getting bit next week. He’s already told me that,” Xanna said.

“Are we supposed to eat in the gym?” John asked, noticing that no one else was.

“Nope,” the three vets chorused.

“I do it anyways, sometimes it’s the only way to get these two yahoos to eat,” Xanna said, shoving the package of cookies at the two geniuses. They both eagerly dived in. “They like their sweets,” she said with a shrug. “Besides, we can always talk to Mycroft, and he doesn’t care.”

John nodded and grabbed another cookie.

The four ate and chatted until the music signifying that lights out was coming up came on, which told them that the sole female of the group needed to head back to the other side of the gym, which she did, taking the cookies with her.

When the lights went out, the drum corps slowly fell asleep, and John did the same thing until he felt a set of lips on his cheek.

“Mhphm.”

“You’re so cute, Johnny,” Jim whispered softly, running his fingers through his hair.

“Thought you were ‘sleep,” John mumbled, turning over to look at Jim.

The other boy shrugged. “Don’t sleep much.”

John smiled softly and kissed Jim’s cheek. “If Xan catches us, we’re toast,” he whispered, noticing that Jim was now on his cot.

“Nah, Xan will understand,” Jim whispered back. “Besides, she’s asleep.”

John rolled over and looked at Xan, who had long put her phone down and was snoring softly. “And she won’t wake up?”

“When she’s snoring like that?” Jim gave a low chuckle. “Only thing that’ll wake her up is the drumline.”

John chuckled. “Well then, I guess a little make out session wouldn’t hurt,” he teased. “Since we couldn’t have date night tonight.”

Jim grinned. “Exactly.”

And they did exactly that, lay on John’s cot and make out for a couple of hours, tensing whenever someone turned on their phone light to go to the bathroom or return from it. They’d giggle quietly before going back to their make out frenzy.

John yawned after a long while, though. “Alright, I need to get some sleep, and you should too,” he whispered, kissing Jim’s throat.

“You’re not making a convincing argument,” the other boy teased with a sigh.

John chuckled. “Tomorrow, if I’m not too battered, we’ll kiss more after light’s out,” he promised.

“I look forward to it, Johnny,” Jim whispered. “Good night, and sweet dreams.”

“Good night, Jim,” John mumbled, falling asleep after hearing Jim crawl back onto his air mattress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are Shiny!!


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